PC-NRLF 


MS    flDt, 


DR.  JONATHAN 

A  PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO  -    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITKO 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Lm 

TORONTO 


DR.  JONATHAN 

A  PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


BY 

WINSTON  CHURCHILL 

Author  of  "The  Inside  of  the  Cup,"  "The 
Dwelling  Place  of  Light,"  etc. 


gorfe 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1919 

AU  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT.  1919 
BY  THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  and  printed.     Published,   September,    1919 


\><=> 


PREFACE 

This  play  was  written  during  the  war.  But 
owing  to  the  fact  that  several  managers  politely 
declined  to  produce  it,  it  has  not  appeared  on  any 
stage.  Now,  perhaps,  its  theme  is  more  timely, 
more  likely  to  receive  the  attention  it  deserves, 
when  the  smoke  of  battle  has  somewhat  cleared. 
Even  when  the  struggle  with  Germany  and  her 
allies  was  in  progress  it  was  quite  apparent  to  the 
discerning  that  the  true  issue  of  the  conflict  was 
one  quite  familiar  to  American  thought,  of  self- 
determination.  On  returning  from  abroad  to 
ward  the  end  of  1917  I  ventured  into  print  with 
the  statement  that  the  great  war  had  every  aspect 
of  a  race  with  revolution.  Subliminal  desires, 
subliminal  fears,  when  they  break  down  the 
censor  of  law,  are  apt  to  inspire  fanatical  creeds, 
to  wind  about  their  victims  the  flaming  flag  of  a 
false  martyrdom.  Today  it  is  on  the  knees  of 
the  gods  whether  the  insuppressible  impulses  for 
human  freedom  that  come  roaring  up  from  the 


5052-42 


vi  PREFACE 

subliminal  chaos,  fanned  by  hunger  and  hate, 
are  to  thrash  themselves  out  in  anarchy  and  in 
sanity,  or  to  take  an  ordered,  intelligent  and  con 
scious  course.  Of  the  Twentieth  Century,  indus 
trial  democracy  is  the  watchword,  even  as  po 
litical  democracy  was  the  watchword  of  the  two 
centuries  that  preceded  it.  Economic  power  is  at 
last  realized  to  be  political  power.  No  man  owns 
himself,  no  woman  owns  herself  if  the  individual 
is  not  economically  free.  Perhaps  the  most  en 
couraging  omen  of  the  day  is  the  fact  that  many 
of  our  modern  employers,  and  even  our  modern 
financiers  and  bankers  seem  to  be  recognizing 
this  truth,  to  be  growing  aware  of  the  danger  to 
civilization  of  its  continued  suppression.  Edu 
cators  and  sociologists  may  supply  the  theories; 
but  by  experiment,  by  trial  and  error, —  yes,  and" 
by  prayer, —  the  solution  must  be  found  in  the 
practical  domain  of  industry. 


DR.  JONATHAN 

ACT  I 

SCENE:  The  library  of  ASHER  PINDAR'S  house 
in  Foxon  Falls,  a  New  England  village  of  some 
three  thousand  souls,  over  the  destinies  of 
which  the  Pindars  for  three  generations  have 
presided.  It  is  a  large,  dignified  room,  built 
early  in  the  nineteenth  century,  with  white 
doors  and  gloss  woodwork.  At  the  rear  of  the 
stage, —  zvhich  is  the  front  of  the  house, —  are 
three  high  windows  with  small,  square  panes 
of  glass,  and  embrasures  into  which  are  fitted 
white  inside  shutters.  These  windows  reach 
to  within  a  foot  or  so  of  the  floor;  a  person 
walking  on  the  lawn  or  the  sidewalk  just  be 
yond  it  may  be  seen  through  them.  The  trees 
bordering  the  Common  are  also  seen  through 
these  windows,  and  through  a  gap  in  the  foliage 
a  glimpse  of  the  terraced  steeple  of  the  Pindar 
Church,  the  architecture  of  which  is  of  the 
same  period  as  the  house.  Upper  right,  at  the 
i 


2  DR.'  JONATHAN 

end  of  the  wall,  is  a  glass  door  looking  out  on 
the  lawm.  There  is  another  door,  lower  right, 
and  a  door,  lower  left,  leading  into  ASHER  PIN 
DAR'S  study.  A  marble  mantel,  zvhich  holds  a 
clock  and  certain  ornaments,  is  just  beyond 
this  door.  The  wall  spaces  on  the  right  and 
left  are  occupied  by  high  bookcases  filled  with 
respectable  volumes  in  calf  and  dark  cloth 
bindings.  Over  the  mantel  is  an  oil  painting 
of  the  Bierstadt  school,  cherished  by  ASHER  as 
an  inheritance  from  his  father,  a  huge  land 
scape  with  a  self-conscious  sky,  mountains, 
plains,  rivers  and  waterfalls,  and  two  small  fig 
ures  of  Indians  —  who  seem  to  have  been  talk 
ing  to  a  missionary.  In  the  spaces  between  the 
window's  are  tivo  steel  engravings,  "  The  Death 
of  Wolfe  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham"  and 
"Washington  Crossing  the  Delaware!"  The 
furniture,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  heir 
looms,  such  as  the  stiff  sofa,  is  mostly  of  the 
Richardson  period  of  the  '8os  and  'pos.  On 
a  table,  middle  rear,  are  neatly  spread  out  sev 
eral  conservative  magazines  and  periodicals, 
including  a  religious  publication. 

TIME;     A  bright  morning  in  October,  1917. 


DR.  JONATHAN  3 

GEORGE  PINDAR,  in  the  uniform  of  a  first  lieu 
tenant  of  the  army,  enters  by  the  doorway,  up 
per  right.  He  is  a  well  set  up  young  man  of 
about  twenty-seven,  bronzed  from  his  life  in  a 
training  camp,  of  an  adventurous  and  social  na 
ture.  He  glances  about  the  room,  and  then 
lights  a  cigarette. 

ASHER  PINDAR,  his  father,  enters,  lower  right. 
He  is  a  tall,  strongly  built  man  of  about  sixty, 
with  iron  grey  hair  and  beard.     His  eyes  are 
keen,  shadowed  by  bushy  brows,  and  his  New 
England  features  bear  the  stamp  of  inflexible 
ff  character."     He  wears  a  black  "  cutaway  " 
coat  and  dark  striped  trousers;  his  voice  is 
strong  and  resonant.     But  he  is  evidently  pre 
occupied  and  worried,  though  he  smiles  with 
affection  as  he  perceives   GEORGE.     GEORGE'S 
fondness  for  him  is  equally  apparent. 
GEORGE.     Hello,  dad. 
ASHER.     Oh,  you're  here,  George. 
GEORGE  (looking  at  ASHER)  .     Something  trou 
bling  you? 

ASHER  (attempting  dissimulation).  Well, 
you're  going  off  to  France,  they've  only  given  you 
two  days'  leave,  and  I've  scarcely  seen  anything 
of  you.  Isn't  that  enough? 


4  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE.  I  know  how  busy  you've  been  with 
that  government  contract  on  your  hands.  I  wish 
I  could  help. 

ASHER.  You're  in  the  army  now,  my  boy. 
You  can  help  me  again  when  you  come  back. 

GEORGE.  I  want  to  get  time  to  go  down  to  the 
shops  and  say  goodbye  to  some  of  the  men. 

ASHER.     No,  I  shouldn't  do  that,  George. 

GEORGE  (surprised).  Why  not?  I  used  to  be 
pretty  chummy  with  them,  you  know, —  smoke  a 
pipe  with  them  occasionally  in  the  noon  hour. 

ASHER.  I  know.  But  it  doesn't  do  for  an 
employer  to  be  too  familiar  with  the  hands  in 
these  days. 

GEORGE.  I  guess  I've  got  a  vulgar  streak  in 
me  somewhere,  I  get  along  with  the  common  peo 
ple.  There'll  be  lots  of  them  in  the  trenches, 
dad. 

ASHER.     Under  military  discipline. 

GEORGE  (laughing).  We're  supposed  to  be 
fighting  a  war  for  democracy.  I  was  talking  to 
old  Bains  yesterday, —  he's  still  able  to  run  a 
lathe,  and  he  was  in  the  Civil  War,  you  know. 
He  was  telling  me  how  the  boys  in  his  regiment 
stopped  to  pick  blackberries  on  the  way  to  the 
battle  of  Bull  Run. 


DR.  JONATHAN  5 

ASHER.  That's  democracy!  It's  what  we're 
doing  right  now  —  stopping  to  pick  blackberries. 
This  country's  been  in  the  war  six  months, 
since  April,  and  no  guns,  no  munitions,  a  hand 
ful  of  men  in  France  —  while  the  world's  burn 
ing! 

GEORGE.  Well,  we  won't  sell  Uncle  Sam  short 
yet.  Something  is  bothering  you,  dad. 

ASHER.  No  —  no, —  but  the  people  in  Wash 
ington  change  my  specifications  every  week,  and 
Jonathan's  arriving  today,  of  all  days. 

GEORGE.     Has  Dr.  Jonathan  turned  up? 

ASHER.  I  haven't  seen  him  yet.  It  seems  he 
got  here  this  morning.  No  telegram,  nothing. 
And  he  had  his  house  fixed  up  without  consult 
ing  me.  He  must  be  queer,  like  his  father, 
your  great  uncle,  Henry  Pindar. 

GEORGE.  Tell  me  about  Dr.  Jonathan.  A 
scientist,  isn't  he?  Suddenly  decided  to  come 
back  to  live  in  the  old  homestead. 

ASHER.  On  account  of  his  health.  He  was 
delicate  as  a  boy.  He  must  have  been  about 
eight  or  nine  years  old  when  Uncle  Henry  left 
Foxon  Falls  for  the  west, —  that  was  before  you 
were  born.  Uncle  Henry  died  somewhere  in 
Iowa.  He  and  my  father  never  got  along. 


6  DR.  JONATHAN 

Uncle  Henry  had  as  much  as  your  grandfather 
to  begin  with,  and  let  it  slip  through  his  ringers. 
He  managed  to  send  Jonathan  to  a  medical 
school,  and  it  seems  that  he's  had  some  sort  of  a 
position  at  Johns  Hopkins's  —  research  work.  I 
don't  know  what  he's  got  to  live  on. 

GEORGE.  Uncle  Henry  must  have  been  a 
philanthropist. 

ASHER.  It's  all  very  well  to  be  a  philanthro 
pist  when  you  make  more  than  you  give  away. 
Otherwise  you're  a  sentimentalist. 

GEORGE.     Or  a  Christian. 

ASHER.  We  can't  take  Christianity  too  liter 
ally. 

GEORGE  (smiling).  That's  its  great  advan 
tage,  as  a  religion. 

ASHER.  George,  I  don't  like  to  say  anything 
just  as  you're  going  to  fight  for  your  country, 
my  boy,  but  your  attitude  of  religious  skepticism 
has  troubled  me,  as  well  as  your  habit  of  intimacy 
with  the  shop  hands.  I  confess  to  you  that  I've 
been  a  little  afraid  at  times  that  you'd  take  after 
Jonathan's  father.  He  never  went  to  church,  he 
forgot  that  he  owed  something  to  his  position  as 
a  Pindar.  He  used  to  have  that  house  of  his 
overrun  with  all  sorts  of  people,  and  the  yard 


DR.  JONATHAN  7 

full  of  dirty  children  eating  his  fruit  and  picking 
his  flowers.  There's  such  a  thing  as  being  too 
democratic.  I  hope  I'm  as  good  an  American  as 
anybody,  I  believe  that  any  man  with  brains,  who 
has  thrift,  ought  to  rise  —  but  wait  until  they  do 
rise.  You're  going  to  command  men,  and  when 
you  come  back  here  into  the  business  again 
you'll  be  in  a  position  of  authority.  Remember 
what  I  say,  if  you  give  these  working  people  an 
inch,  they'll  take  all  you  have. 

GEORGE  (laying  his  hand  on  ASHER'S  shoul 
der).  Something  is  worrying  you,  dad.  We've 
always  been  pretty  good  pals,  haven't  we? 

ASHER.  Yes,  ever  since  you  were  a  little 
shaver.  Well,  George,  I  didn't  want  to  bother 
you  with  it  —  today.  It  seems  there's  trouble  in 
the  shops, —  in  our  shops,  of  all  places, —  it's 
been  going  on  for  some  time,  grumbling,  dissatis 
faction,  and  they're  getting  higher  wages  than 
ever  before  —  ruinous  wages.  They  want  me  to 
recognize  the  union. 

GEORGE.  Well,  that  beats  me.  I  thought  we 
were  above  the  labour-trouble  line,  away  up  here 
in  New  England. 

ASHER   (grimly).     Oh,  I  can  handle  them. 

GEORGE.     I'll  bet  you  can.     You're  a  regular 


8  DR.  JONATHAN 

old  war  horse  when  you  get  started.  It's  your 
capital,  it's  your  business,  you've  put  it  all  at  the 
disposal  of  the  government.  What  right  have 
they  to  kick  up  a  row  now,  with  this  war  on  ?  I 
must  say  I  haven't  any  sympathy  with  that. 

ASHER  (proudly).  I  guess  you're  a  real  Pin 
dar  after  all,  George. 

(Enter  an  elderly  maid,  loivcr  right.) 

MAID.  Timothy  Farrell,  the  foreman's  here, 
sir. 

(Enter,  loivcr  right,  TIMOTHY,  a  big  Irish 
man  of  about  sixty,  in  working  clothes.) 

TIMOTHY.  Here  I  am,  sir.  They're  after 
sending  word  you  wanted  me. 

GEORGE  (going  up  to  TIMOTHY  and  shaking  his 
hand  warmly).  Old  Timothy!  I'm  glad  to  get 
sight  of  you  before  I  go. 

TIMOTHY.  And  it's  glad  I  am  to  see  you, 
Mr.  George,  before  you  leave.  And  he  an  officer 
now !  Sure,  I  mind  him  as  a  baby  being  wheeled 
up  and  down  under  the  trees  out  there.  My  boy 
Bert  was  saying  only  this  morning  how  we'd 
missed  the  sight  of  him  in  the  shops  this  sum 
mer.  You  have  a  way  with  the  men,  Mr.  George, 
of  getting  into  their  hearts,  like.  I  was  thinking 
just  now,  if  Mr.  George  had  only  been  home,  in 


DR.  JONATHAN  9 

the  shops,  maybe  we  wouldn't  be  having  all  this 
complaint  and  trouble. 

GEORGE.  Who's  at  the  bottom  of  this,  Tim 
othy?  Rench?  Hillman?  I  thought  so.  Well, 
they're  not  bad  chaps  when  you  get  under  their 
skins. 

(He  glances  at  his  wrist  ivatch) 
Let  me  go  down  and  talk  with  them,  dad, —  I've 
got  time,  my  train  doesn't  leave  until  one  thirty. 
ASHER  (impatiently,  almost  savagely).  No, 
I'll  settle  this,  George,  this  is  my  job.  I  won't 
have  any  humoring.  Come  into  my  study,  Tim 
othy. 

TIMOTHY,  shaking  his  head,  follows  ASHER 

out  of  the  door,  left. 

After  a  moment  GEORGE  goes  over  to  the  ex 
treme  left  hand  corner  of  the  room,  where 
several  articles  are  piled.  He  drags  out  a 
kit  bag,  then  some  necessary  wearing  ap 
parel,  underclothes,  socks,  a  sweater,  etc., 
then  a  large  and  rather  luxurious  lunch 
kit,  a  pin  cushion  with  his  monogram,  a 
small  travelling  pillow  with  his  monogram, 
a  linen  toilet  case  embroidered  in  blue, 
to  hang  on  the  ivall  —  these  last  evidently 
presents  from  admiring  lady  friends. 


io  DR.  JONATHAN 

Finally  he  brings  forth  a  large  rubber  life 
preserving  suit.  He  makes  a  show  of  put 
ting  all  these  things  in  the  bag,  including 
the  life- preserving  suit;  and  reveals  a  cer 
tain  sentiment,  not  too  deep,  for  the  pil- 
loiv,  the  pincushion  and  the  toilet  case.  At 
length  he  strews  everything  over  the  floor, 
and  is  surveying  the  litter  with  mock  de 
spair  when  a  girl  appears  on  the  lawn  out 
side,  through  one  of  the  windows.  She 
throws  into  the  room  a  small  parcel 
wrapped  in  tissue  paper,  and  disappears. 
GEORGE  picks  up  the  parcel  and  looks  sur 
prised,  and  suddenly  runs  out  of  the  door, 
upper  right.  He  presently  returns,  drag 
ging  the  girl  by  the  wrists,  she  resist 
ing. 

MINNIE  FARRELL  is  about  twenty  one,  with 
black  hair  and  an  abundant  vitality.  Her 
costume  is  a  not  wholly  ineffective  imita 
tion  of  those  bought  at  a  great  price  at 
certain  metropolitan  establishments.  A 
string  of  imitation  pearls  gleams  against 
her  ruddy  skin. 

MINNIE.     Cut     it     out,     George!     (Glancing 
around  apprehensively.)     Say,   if   your   mother 


DR.  JONATHAN  n 

was  to  find  me  here  she'd  want  to  send  me  up  to 
the  reformatory  (she  frees  herself). 

GEORGE.  Where  the  deuce  did  you  blow  in 
from?  (Regarding  her  with  admiration.)  Is 
this  the  little  Minnie  Farrell  who  left  Foxon 
Falls  two  years  ago?  Gee  whiz!  aren't  we 
smart ! 

MINNIE.  Do  you  like  me?  I'm  making  good 
money,  since  the  war. 

GEORGE.  Do  I  like  you?  What  are  you  do 
ing  here  ? 

MINNIE.  My  brother  Bert's  out  there  —  he 
ain't  working  today.  Mr.  Pindar  sent  for  father, 
and  we  walked  up  here  with  him.  Where  is  he  ? 

GEORGE  (nodding  tozvard  the  study).  In 
there.  But  what  are  you  doing,  back  in  Foxon 
Falls? 

MINNIE.  Oh,  visiting  the  scenes  of  my  child 
hood. 

GEORGE  (tearing  open  the  tissue  paper  from 
the  parcel).  Did  you  make  these  for  me? 

(He  holds  up  a  pair  of  grey  woollen  wrist 
lets.) 

MINNIE.  Well,  I  wanted  to  do  something  for 
a  soldier,  and  when  I  heard  you  was  going  to 
France  I  thought  you  might  as  well  have  'em. 


12  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE.     How  did  you  hear  I  was  going? 

MINNIE.  Bert  told  me  when  I  came  home 
yesterday.  They  say  it's  cold  in  the  trenches, 
and  nothing  keeps  the  hands  so  warm  as  wrist 
lets.  I  know,  because  I've  had  'cm  on  winter 
mornings,  early,  when  I  was  going  to  work. 
Will  you  wear  'em,  George? 

GEORGE.  Will  I  wear  them!  (He  puts  them 
on  his  urists.)  I'll  never  take  them  off  till  the 
war's  over. 

MINNIE  (pleased).  You  always  were  a 
josher ! 

GEORGE.  Tell  me,  Minnie,  why  did  you  run 
away  from  me  two  years  ago? 

MINNIE.  Run  away  from  you!  I  left  be 
cause  I  couldn't  stand  this  village  any  longer. 
It  was  too  quiet  for  me. 

GEORGE.  You're  a  josher!  You  went  off 
while  I  was  away,  without  telling  me  you  were 
going.  And  then,  when  I  found  out  where  you 
were  and  hustled  over  to  Newcastle  in  my  car, 
you  turned  me  down  hard. 

MINNIE.  You  didn't  have  a  mortgage  on  me. 
There  were  plenty  of  girls  of  your  own  kind  at 
that  house  party  you  went  to.  I  guess  you  made 
love  to  them,  too. 


DR.  JONATHAN  13 

GEORGE.  They  weren't  in  the  same  class  with 
you.  You've  got  the  ginger. 

MINNIE.     I've  still  got  the  ginger,  all  right. 

GEORGE,     I  thought  you  cared  for  me. 

MINNIE.     You  always  had  the  nerve,  George. 

GEORGE.     You  acted  as  if  you  did. 

MINNIE.  I'm  a  good  actor.  Say,  what  was 
there  in  it  for  me  ?  —  packing  tools  in  the  Pindar 
shops,  and  you  the  son  of  my  boss?  You  didn't 
want  nothing  from  me  except  what  all  men  want, 
and  you  wouldn't  have  wanted  that  long. 

GEORGE.     I  was  crazy  about  you. 

MINNIE  (her  eyes  falling  on  the  travelling  pil 
low  and  the  pincushion;  picking  them  up  in 
turn).  I  guess  you  told  them  that,  too. 

GEORGE  (embarrassed).  Oh,  I'm  popular 
enough  when  I'm  going  away.  They  don't  care 
anything  about  me. 

MINNIE  (indicating  the  wristlets) .  You  don't 
want  them, —  I'll  give  'em  to  Bert. 

GEORGE.     No,  you  won't. 

MINNIE.  I  was  silly.  But  we  had  a  good 
time  while  it  lasted, —  didn't  we,  George? 

(She  evades  him  deftly,  and  picks  up   the 

life-preserving  suit.) 
What's  this?  —  a  full  dress  uniform? 


i4  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE.  When  a  submarine  gets  you,  all 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  jump  overboard  and  blow 
this- 

(He  draws  the  siren  from  the  pocket 
and  starts  to  blow  it,  but  she  seizes  his 
hand.) 

—  and  float  around  until  a  destroyer  picks  you 
up. 

(Takes  from  another  pocket  a  metal  lunch 

box.) 

This  is  for  pate  de  foie  gras  sandwiches,  and 
there's  room  in  here 

(Indicating  another  pocket.) 
for  a  bottle  of  fizz.  Come  along  with  me,  Min 
nie,  ship  as  a  Red  Cross  nurse,  and  I'll  buy  you 
one.  The  Atlantic  wouldn't  be  such  a  bad  place, 
with  you, —  and  we  wouldn't  be  in  a  hurry  to 
blow  the  siren.  You'd  look  like  a  peach  in  a 
white  costume,  too. 

MINNIE.     Don't  you  like  me  in  this? 
GEORGE.     Sure,  but  I'd  like  that  better. 
MINNIE.     I'd  make  a  good  nurse,  if  I  do  say 
it    myself.     And    I'd    take    good    care    of    you, 
George, —  as  good  as  any  of  them. 

(She  nods  toward  the  pillow  and  pin 
cushion.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  15 

GEORGE.     Better ! 

(He  seizes  her  hands  and  attempts  to  draw 

her  toward  him.) 
You  used  to  let  me ! 

MINNIE.     That  ain't  any  reason. 
GEORGE.     Just     once,      Minnie, —  I'm     going 
away. 

MINNIE.     No.     I  didn't  mean  to  come  in  here 
- 1  just  wanted  to  see  what  you  looked  like  in 
your  uniform. 

(She  draws  away  from  him,  just  as  DR. 
JONATHAN  appears  in  the  doorway,  lower 
right.) 
Goodbye,  George. 

(She  goes  out  through  the  doorway,  upper 

right.) 

(DR.  JONATHAN  may  be  almost  any  age, —  in 
reality  about  thirty  five.  His  head  is  that 
of  the  thinker,  high  above  the  eyes.  His 
face  bears  evidence  in  its  lines  of  years 
of  labour  and  service,  as  well  as  of  a  tri 
umphant  struggle  against  ill  health.  In 
his  eyes  is  a  thoughtful  yet  illuminating 
smile,  now  directed  toward  GEORGE  who, 
when  he  perceives  him,  is  taken  aback,) 
GEORGE,  Hello ! 


16  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Hello!  I  was  told  to  come 
in  here, —  I  hope  I'm  not  intruding. 

GEORGE.  Not  at  all.  How  —  how  long  have 
you  been  here  ? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Just  long  enough  to  get  my 
bearings.  I  came  this  morning. 

GEORGE.  Oh  !  Are  you  —  are  you  Dr.  Jona 
than  ? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I'm  Jonathan.  And  you're 
George,  I  suppose. 

GEORGE.  Yes.  (He  goes  to  him  and  shakes 
hands.)  I'm  sorry  to  be  leaving  just  as  you 
come. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     I'll  be  here  when  you  return. 

GEORGE.  I  hope  so  (a  pause).  You  won't 
find  Foxon  Falls  a  bad  old  town. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  it  will  be  a  better  one 
when  you  come  back. 

GEORGE.     Why  do  you  say  that? 

DR.  JONATHAN  (smiling).  It  seems  a  safe 
conjecture. 

(DR.  JONATHAN  is  looking  at  the  heap  of 
articles  on  the  floor.) 

GEORGE  (grinning,  and  not  quite  at  ease). 
You  might  imagine  I  was  embarking  in  the 
gent's  furnishing  business,  instead  of  going  to 


DR.  JONATHAN  17 

war.  (He  picks  up  the  life-preserving  suit.) 
Some  friend  of  mother's  told  her  about  this,  and 
she  insisted  upon  sending  for  it.  I  don't  want 
to  hurt  her  feelings,  but  I  can't  take  it,  of  course. 
(Pie  rolls  it  up  and  thrusts  it  under  the  sofa, 

upper  left.) 

You  won't  give  me  away? 
DR.  JONATHAN.     Never! 

GEORGE.  Dad  ought  to  be  here  in  a  minute, — 
he's  in  there  with  old  Timothy  Farrell,  the 
moulder  foreman.  It  seems  that  things  are  in 
a  mess  at  the  shops.  Rotten  of  the  men  to  make 
trouble  now  —  don't  you  think  ?  —  when  the 
country's  at  war !  Darned  unpatriotic,  I  say. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  saw  a  good  many  stars  in 
your  service  flag  as  I  passed  the  office  door  this 
morning. 

GEORGE.  Yes.  Over  four  hundred  of  our 
men  have  enlisted.  I  don't  understand  it. 

DR.    JONATHAN.     Perhaps   you   will,    George, 
when  you  come  home. 
GEORGE.     You  mean  — 

(GEORGE  is  interrupted  by  the  entrance, 
lower  right,  of  his  mother,  AUGUSTA  PIN 
DAR.  She  is  now  in  the  fifties,  and  her 
hair  is  turning  grey.  Her  uneventful. 


i8  DR.  JONATHAN 

provincial  existence  as  ASHER'S  wife  has 
confirmed  and  crystallised  her  traditional 
New  England  views,  her  conviction  that 
her  mission  is  to  direct  for  good  the  lives 
of  the  less  fortunate  by  whom  she  is  sur 
rounded.     She  carries  her  knitting  in  her 
hand, —  a  pair  of  socks  for  GEORGE.     And 
she  goes  at  once  to  DR.  JONATHAN.) 
AUGUSTA.     So  you  are  Jonathan.     They  told 
me  you'd  arrived  —  why  didn't  you  come  to  us  ? 
Do  you  think  it's  wise  to  live  in  that  old  house 
of    your    father's    before    it's    been    thoroughly 
heated  for  a  few  days? 

DR.  JONATHAN  (taking  her  hand).  Oh,  I'm 
going  to  live  with  the  doors  and  windows 
open. 

AUGUSTA.  Dear  me !  I  understand  you've 
been  quite  ill,  and  you  were  never  very  strong 
as  a  child.  I  made  it  my  business  to  go  through 
the  house  yesterday,  and  I  must  say  it  looks 
comfortable.  But  the  carpenters  and  plumbers 
have  ruined  the  parlour,  with  that  bench,  and  the 
sink  in  the  corner.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
there  ? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I'm  having  it  made  into  a 
sort  of  laboratory. 


DR.  JONATHAN  19 

AUGUSTA.  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  intend 
to  do  any  work! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Work  ought  to  cure  me,  in 
this  climate. 

AUGUSTA.  You  mean  to  practise  medicine? 
You  ought  to  have  consulted  us.  I'm  afraid  you 
won't  find  it  remunerative,  Jonathan, —  but  your 
father  was  impractical,  too.  Foxon  Falls  is  still 
a  small  place,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  shops 
have  grown.  Workmen's  families  can't  afford 
to  pay  big  fees,  you  know. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (smiling).     I  know. 

AUGUSTA.  And  we  already  have  an  excellent 
physician  here,  Dr.  Senn. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  shan't  interfere  with  Dr. 
Senn. 

GEORGE  (laying  his  hand  on  AUGUSTA'S  shoul 
der:  apologetically).  Mother  feels  personally 
responsible  for  every  man,  woman  and  child  in 
Foxon  Falls.  I  shouldn't  worry  about  Dr.  Jona 
than  if  I  were  you,  mother,  I've  got  a  notion  he 
can  take  care  of  himself. 

AUGUSTA  (a  little  baffled  by  DR.  JONATHAN'S 
self-command,  sits  down  and  begins  to  knit). 
I  must  get  these  socks  finished  for  you  to  take 
with  you,  my  dear.  (To  DR.  JONATHAN)  I 


20  DR.  JONATHAN 

can't  realize  he's  going!  (To  GEORGE)  You 
haven't  got  all  your  things  in  your  bag! 
Where's  the  life-preserving  suit  I  sent  for? 

GEORGE  (glancing  at  DR.  JONATHAN).     Oh — 
that's  gone,  mother. 

AUGUSTA.  He  always  took  cold  so  easily,  and 
that  will  keep  him  warm  and  dry,  if  those  terri 
ble  Germans  sink  his  ship.  But  your  presents, 
George!  (To  DR.  JONATHAN:)  Made  for  him 
by  sisters  of  his  college  friends. 

GEORGE  (amused  but  embarrassed).  I  can't 
fit  up  a  section  of  the  trenches  as  a  boudoir. 

AUGUSTA.  Such  nice  girls!  I  wish  he'd 
marry  one  of  them.  Who  made  you  the  wrist 
lets?  I  hadn't  seen  them. 

GEORGE  (taking  off  the  wristlets  and  putting 
them  in  his  bag).  Oh,  I  can't  give  her  away. 
I  was  —  just  trying  them  on,  to  see  if  they  fitted. 

AUGUSTA.     When  did  they  come? 

GEORGE  (glancing  at  DR.  JONATHAN).  Er  — 
this  morning. 

(Enter  ASHER  and  TIMOTHY  from  the  study, 
left.  ASHER  is  evidently  "drought  up 
from  his  talk  with  TIMOTHY.) 

ASHER.  Remember,  Timothy,  I  rely  on  sensi 
ble  men  like  you  to  put  a  stop  to  this  nonsense. 


DR.  JONATHAN  21 

AUGUSTA.     Asher,  here's  Jonathan. 

ASIIER.  Oh !  (He  goes  up  to  DR.  JONATHAN 
and  takes  his  hand,  though  it  is  quite  evident  that 
his  mind  is  still  on  the  trouble  in  the  shops). 
Glad  to  see  you  back  in  Foxon  Falls,  Jonathan. 
I  heard  you'd  arrived,  and  would  have  dropped 
in  on  you,  but  things  are  in  a  muddle  here  just 
now. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Not  only  here,  but  every 
where. 

ASHER.  You're  right.  The  country's  going 
to  the  dogs.  I  don't  know  what  will  straighten 
it  out. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Intelligence,  open-minded- 
ness,  cooperation,  Asher. 

ASHER   (arrested:  looking  at  him).     Hum! 

DR.  JONATHAN  (leaving  him  and  going  up  to 
TIMOTHY).  You  don't  remember  me,  Timothy? 

TIMOTHY.  Sure  and  I  do,  sir, —  though  you 
were  only  a  little  lad.  You  mind  me  of  your 
father, —  your  smile,  like.  He  was  the  grand, 
simple  man !  It's  happy  I  am  to  see  you  back 
in  Foxon  Falls. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Yes,  I've  been  ordered  to  the 
rear. 

TIMOTHY.     The    rear,    is    it?     I'm    thinking 


22  DR.  JONATHAN 

we'll  be  fighting  this  war  in  Foxon  Falls,  too. 
DR.    JONATHAN.     Yes,    much    of    it    will    be 
fought  behind  the  battle  lines. 

AUGUSTA.     You  think  the  Germans  will  come 
over  here? 

DR.   JONATHAN.     No,   but   the   issue   is   over 
here  already. 

(DR.  JONATHAN  picks  up  her  ball  of  wool, 

which  has  fallen  to  the  floor.} 
AUGUSTA  (looking  at  him  apprehensively,  puz 
zled).     Thank  you,  Jonathan. 

(She  turns  to  TIMOTHY,  who  has  started  to 
ward  the  door,  lower  right) 
Wait  a  moment,  Timothy,  I  want  to  ask  you 
about  your  children.  What  do  you  hear  from 
Minnie?  I  always  took  an  interest  in  her,  you 
know, —  especially  when  she  was  in  the  tool  pack 
ing  department  of  the  shops,  and  I  had  her  in 
my  Bible  class.  I  appreciated  your  letting  her 
come, —  an  Irishman  and  a  Catholic  as  you  are. 
TIMOTHY.  The  Church  has  given  me  up  as  a 
heathen,  ma'am,  when  I  married  your  cook,  and 
she  a  Protestant. 

AUGUSTA.  I've  been  worried  about  Minnie 
since  she  went  to  Newcastle.  She  has  so  much 
vitality,  and  I'm  afraid  she's  pleasure  loving  — 


DR.  JONATHAN  23 

though  she  seemed  to  take  to  religion  with  her 
whole   soul.     And  where's  Jamesy? 

TIMOTHY.  Jamesy,  is  it?  It's  gone  to  the 
bad  entirely  he  is,  with  the  drink.  He  left  the 
shops  when  the  twelve-hour  shifts  began  — 
wherever  he's  at  now.  It's  home  Minnie  came 
from  Newcastle  yesterday,  ma'am,  for  a  visit, 
—  she's  outside  there  now,  with  Bert, —  they 
walked  along  with  me. 

AUGUSTA.  Bring  them  in,  I  want  to  see  them, 
—  especially  Minnie.  I  must  say  I'm  surprised 
she  should  have  come  home  without  calling  on 
me. 

TIMOTHY.     I'll  get  them,  ma'am. 

(He   goes    out    of   the    door,   upper   right. 
GEORGE,  who  has  been  palpably  ill  at  ease 
during  this  conversation,  now  makes  for 
the  door,  lower  right.) 
AUGUSTA.     Where  are  you  going,  my  dear? 
GEORGE  (halting).     I  thought  I'd  look  around 
and  see  if  I'd  forgotten  anything,  mother. 

AUGUSTA.  Stay  with  us, —  there's  plenty  of 
time. 

(TIMOTHY  returns  through  the  doorway,  up 
per  right,  with  BERT,  but  without  MIN 
NIE.) 
TIMOTHY.     It's    disappeared    entirely    she    is, 


24  DR.  JONATHAN 

ma'am, —  here  one  minute  and  there  the  next, — 
the  way  with  young  people  nowadays.  And 
she's  going  back  to  Newcastle  this  afternoon,  to 
her  job  at  the  Wire  Works. 

AUGUSTA.  I  must  see  her  before  she  goes. 
I  feel  in  a  measure  responsible  for  her.  You'll 
tell  her? 

TIMOTHY.     I'll  tell  her. 

AUGUSTA.     How  are  you  getting  along,  Bert? 

BERT.     Very  well,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Pindar. 

( The  MAID  enters,  lower  right.) 
MAID.     Miss  Thorpe  wishes  to  speak  with  you, 
ma'am. 

AUGUSTA  (gathering  up  her  knitting).  It's 
about  the  wool  for  the  Red  Cross. 

(Exit,  lozver  right.) 

GEORGE  (shaking  hands  with  BERT).  Hello, 
Bert, —  how  goes  it  ? 

BERT.     All  right,  thank  you,  lieutenant. 
GEORGE.     Oh,  cut  out  the  title. 

(BERT  FARRELL  is  about  twenty  three.  He 
wears  a  brown  flannel  shirt  and  a  blue 
four-in-hand  tie,  and  a  good  ready-made 
suit.  He  holds  his  hat  in  front  of  him. 
He  is  a  self-respecting,  able  young  Irish 
American  of  the  blue-eyed  type  that  have 


DR.  JONATHAN  25 

died  by  thousands  on  the  battle  fields  of 
France,  and  whose  pictures  may  be  seen 
in  our  newspapers.) 

ASHER.     You're  not  working  today,   Bert? 

BERT.  I've  left  the  shops,  Mr.  Pindar, —  I  got 
through  last  night. 

ASHER.  Left  the  shops !  You  didn't  say  any 
thing  about  this,  Timothy! 

TIMOTHY.  No,  sir, —  you  have  trouble  enough 
today. 

ASHER  (to  BERT).     Why  did  you  leave? 

BERT.  I'm  going  to  enlist,  Mr.  Pindar, —  with 
the  Marines.  From  what  I've  heard  of  that 
corps,  I  think  I'd  like  to  join  it. 

ASHER  (exasperated).  But  why  do  you  do 
a  thing  like  this  when  you  must  know  I  need 
every  man  here  to  help  turn  out  these  machines  ? 
And  especially  young  men  like  you,  good  mechan 
ics !  If  you  wanted  to  serve  your  country,  you 
were  better  off  where  you  were.  I  got  you  ex 
empted —  (catching  himself)  I  mean,  you  were 
exempted  from  the  draft. 

BERT.  I  didn't  want  to  be  exempted,  sir. 
More  than  four  hundred  of  the  boys  have  gone 
from  the  shops,  as  well  as  Mr.  George  here,  and 
I  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer. 


26  DR.  JONATHAN 

ASHER.  What's  Mr.  George  got  to  do  with 
it?  The  cases  are  different. 

BERT  (stoutly).  I  don't  see  that,  Mr.  Pindar. 
Every  man,  no  matter  who  he  is,  has  to  decide 
a  thing  like  this  for  himself. 

GEORGE.     Bert's  right,  dad. 

ASHER.  You  say  he's  right,  when  you  know 
that  I  need  every  hand  I  can  get  to  carry  out 
this  contract? 

GEORGE.  He's  going  to  make  a  contract,  too. 
He's  giving  up  all  he  has. 

ASHER.     And  you  approve  of  this,  Timothy? 

TIMOTHY.  Sure,  I  couldn't  stop  him,  Mr. 
Pindar!  And  it's  proud  I  am  of  him,  the  same 
as  you  are  of  Mr.  George,  that  he'd  be  fighting 
for  America  and  liberty. 

ASHER.  Liberty !  License  is  what  we're  get 
ting  now !  The  workman  thinks  he  can  do  as 
he  pleases.  And  after  all  I've  done  for  my 
workmen, —  building  them  a  club  house  with  a 
piano  in  it,  and  a  library  and  a  billiard  table,  try 
ing  to  do  my  best  to  make  them  comfortable  and 
contented.  I  pay  them  enough  to  buy  pianos  and 
billiard  tables  for  themselves,  and  you  tell  me 
they  want  still  higher  wages. 

TIMOTHY.     They're  saying  they  can  go  down 


DR.  JONATHAN  27 

to  the  shipyards,  where  they'd  be  getting  five 
dollars  and  thirty  cents  a  day. 

ASHER.  Let  them  go  to  the  shipyards,  if  they 
haven't  any  sense  of  gratitude!  What  else  do 
they  say? 

TIMOTHY.  That  you  have  a  contract,  sir,  and 
making  millions  out  of  it. 

ASHER.  What  can  they  know  about  my 
profits? 

TIMOTHY.  It's  just  that,  sir, —  they  know 
nothing  at  all.  But  they're  saying  they  ought  to 
know,  since  things  is  different  now,  and  they're 
working  for  the  war  and  the  country,  the  same 
as  yourself. 

ASHER.  Haven't  I  established  a  system  of 
bonuses,  to  share  my  profits  with  the  efficient 
and  the  industrious? 

TIMOTHY.  They  don't  understand  the  bo 
nuses, —  how  you  come  by  them.  Autocracy  is 
the  word  they  use.  And  they  say  you  put  up  a 
notice  sudden  like,  without  asking  them,  that 
there'd  be  two  long  shifts  instead  of  three  eight- 
hour  ones.  They're  willing  to  work  twelve  hours 
on  end,  for  the  war,  they  say,  but  they'd  want 
to  be  consulted. 

ASHER.     What  business  is  it  of  theirs? 


28  DR.  JONATHAN 

TIMOTHY.  Well,  it's  them  that  has  to  do  the 
hard  work,  sir.  There  was  a  meeting  last  night, 
I  understand,  with  Rench  and  Hillman  and  a 
delegate  come  from  Newcastle  making  speeches, 
the  only  way  they'd  get  their  rights  would  be  for 
you  to  recognize  the  union. 

ASHER.  I'll  never  recognize  a  union!  I 
won't  have  any  outsiders,  meddlers  and  crooks 
dictating  my  business  to  me. 

TIMOTHY.  I've  been  with  you  thirty  years, 
come  December,  Mr.  Pindar,  and  you've  been  a 
good  employer  to  me.  I  don't  hold  with  the 
unions  —  you  know  it  well,  sir,  or  you  wouldn't 
be  asking  me  advice.  I'm  telling  you  what 
they're  saying. 

ASIIER.  I  didn't  mean  to  accuse  you, —  you've 
been  a  good  and  loyal  employee  —  that's  why  I 
sent  for  you.  Find  out  what  their  game  is,  and 
let  me  know. 

TIMOTHY.  It's  not  a  detective  I  am,  Mr. 
Pindar.  I'm  a  workman  meself.  That's  an 
other  thing  they're  saying,  that  you'd  pay  detec 
tives  to  go  among  them,  like  workingmen. 

ASHER  (impatiently).  I'm  not  asking  you  to 
be  a  detective, —  I  only  want  you  to  give  me 
warning  if  we  are  to  have  a  strike. 


DR.  JONATHAN  29 

TIMOTHY.  I've  warned  you,  sir, —  if  it's  only 
for  the  sake  of  beating  the  Germans,  the  dirty 
devils. 

GEORGE  (turning  to  BERT).  Well,  here's  wish 
ing  you  luck,  Bert,  and  hoping  we'll  meet  over 
there.  I  know  how  you  feel, —  you  want  to  be 
in  it,  just  as  I  do. 

ASHER  (turning).  Perhaps  I  said  more  than 
I  meant  to,  Bert.  I've  got  to  turn  out  these  ma 
chines  in  order  that  our  soldiers  may  have  shrap 
nel  to  fight  with,  and  what  with  enlistments  and 
the  determination  of  unscrupulous  workmen  to 
take  advantage  of  the  situation,  I'm  pretty  hard 
pressed.  I  can't  very  well  spare  steady  young 
men  like  you,  who  have  too  much  sense  and 
too  much  patriotism  to  mix  yourselves  up 
with  trouble  makers.  But  I,  too,  can  understand 
your  feeling, —  I'd  like  to  be  going  myself. 
You  might  have  consulted  me,  but  your 
place  will  be  ready  for  you  when  you  come 
back. 

BERT.  Thank  you,  sir.  (He  turns  his  hat 
over  in  his  hands.)  Maybe  it  would  be  fair  to 
tell  you,  Mr.  Pindar,  that  I've  got  a  union  card 
in  my  pocket. 

ASHER.     You,  Timothy  Farrell's  son! 


30  DR.  JONATHAN 

TIMOTHY.  What's  that?  And  never  a  word 
to  me ! 

BERT  (to  TIMOTHY).  Why  wouldn't  I  join 
the  union?  I  took  out  the  card  this  morning, 
when  I  see  that  that's  the  only  way  we'll  get 
what's  coming  to  us.  We  ain't  got  a  chance 
against  the  employers  without  the  union. 

TIMOTHY.  God  help  me,  to  think  my  son 
would  join  the  union, —  and  he  going  to  be  a 
soldier! 

BERT  (glancing  at  GEORGE).  I  guess  there'll 
be  other  union  men  in  the  trenches  besides  me. 

ASHER.  Soldier  or  no  soldier,  I'll  never  em 
ploy  any  man  again  who's  joined  a  union. 

GEORGE  (perturbed).     Hold  on,  dad! 

ASHER.  I  mean  what  I  say,  I  don't  care  who 
he  is. 

BERT  (who  retains  his  self-possession).  Ex 
cuse  me,  Mr.  Pindar,  but  I'd  like  to  ask  you  a 
question  —  I've  heard  the  men  talking  about  this 
in  the  shops.  You  don't  like  it  if  we  go  off  to 
fight,  but  if  we  join  the  union  you  fire  us,  no  mat 
ter  how  short-handed  you  are. 

ASHER.  It's  a  principle  with  me, —  I  won't 
have  any  outside  agency  dictating  to  me. 


DR.  JONATHAN  31 

BERT.  But  if  it  came  to  recognizing  the 
union,  or  shutting  down? 

ASHER.     I'd  shut  down  tomorrow. 

(  GEORGE,  who  sees  the  point,  makes  a  gesture 
as  if  about  to  interrupt.) 

BERT.  That's  what  I'm  getting  at,  Mr.  Pindar. 
You  say  you'd  shut  down  for  a  principle,  whether 
the  government  gets  the  machines  or  not.  And 
the  men  say  they'd  join  the  union  for  a  principle, 
whether  the  government  gets  the  machines  or 
not.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  both  was  hindering  the 
war  for  a  principle,  and  the  question  is,  which 
principle  is  it  that  agrees  best  with  what  we're 
fighting  for? 

ASHER.  No  man  joins  a  union  for  a  principle, 
but  for  extortion.  I  can't  discuss  it, —  I  won't ! 

BERT.     I'm  sorry,  sir. 

(He  turns  to  go  out,  lower  right.) 

GEORGE  (overtaking  him  and  grasping  his 
hand).  So  long,  Bert.  I'll  look  you  up,  over 
there ! 

BERT  (gazing  at  him).     All  right,  Mr.  George. 

GEORGE.  Goodbye,  Timothy.  Don't  worry 
about  the  boy. 

TIMOTHY,     It's  proud  I  am  to  have  him  go, 


32  DR.  JONATHAN 

Mr.    George,— but    I   can't   think   why   he'd   be 
joining  the  union,  and  never  telling  me. 

(He  stands  for  a  moment  troubled,  glancing 
at  ASHER,  torn  between  loyalty  to  his  em 
ployer  and  affection  for  his  son.     Then  he 
goes    out    slowly,    upper    right.     All    the 
zvhile  DR.  JONATHAN  has  stood  in  the  rear 
of    the    room,    occasionally    glancing    at 
GEORGE.     He  now  comes  forward,  unob 
trusively,  yet  withal  impressively.) 
ASHER.     I  never  expected  to  hear  such  talk 
from  a  son  of  Timothy  Farrell, —  a  boy  I  thought 
was  level-headed.     (To  DR.  JONATHAN)   What 
do  you  think  of  that?     You  heard  it. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Well,  he  stated  the  issue, 
Asher. 

ASHER.     The  issue  of  what? 
DR.  JONATHAN.     Of  the  new  century. 
GEORGE.     The  issue  of  the  new  century ! 
ASHER.     You're  right,  we've  got  to  put  these 
people   down.     After   the    war   they'll   come   to 
heel, —  we'll  have  a  cheap  labour  market  then. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Humanity  has  always  been 
cheap,  but  we're  spending  it  rather  lavishly  just 
now. 

ASHER,     You  mean  that  there  will  be  a  scarcity 


DR.  JONATHAN  33 

of  labour  ?  And  that  they  can  continue  to  black 
mail  us  into  paying  these  outrageous  wages? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  When  you  pay  a  man 
wages,  Asher,  you  own  him, —  until  he  is  turned 
over  to  somebody  else. 

ASHER  (puzzled,  a  little  suspicious  for  the  first 
time).  I  own  his  labour,  of  course. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Then  you  own  his  body,  and 
his  soul.  Perhaps  he  resents  being  regarded  as 
a  commodity. 

ASHER.     What  else  is  labour? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  How  would  you  like  to  be  a 
commodity  ? 

ASHER.  I?  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do 
with  it.  These  men  have  no  consideration,  no 
gratitude,  after  the  way  I've  treated  them. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Isn't  that  what  they  object 
to? 

ASHER.     What? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     To  being  treated. 

ASHER.     Object  to  kindness? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     To  benevolence. 

ASHER.     Well,  what's  the  difference? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  The  difference  between  self- 
respect  and  dependence. 

ASHER,    Are  —  are  you  a  Socialist? 


34  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.     No,  I'm  a  scientist. 

(AsiiER  is  standing  staring  at  him  when  the 

MAID  enters,  lower  right.) 
MAID.     Your  long  distance  call  to  Washing 
ton,  sir. 

ASHER.     Very  well. 

(As  he  starts  to  go  out  he  halts  and  looks  at 
DR.  JONATHAN  again,  and  then  abruptly 
leaves  the  room,  lower  right,  folloiving  the 
MAID.) 

GEORGE  (ivho  has  been  regarding  DR.  JONA 
THAN:  after  a  moment's  hesitation).  You  seem 
to  think  there's  something  to  be  said  for  the 
workman's  attitude,  Dr.  Jonathan. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  What  is  his  attitude,  George? 
GEORGE.  Well,  you  heard  Bert  just  now.  I 
thought  he  had  poor  old  dad  on  the  hip  when 
he  accused  the  employer  of  holding  up  the  war, 
too.  But  after  all,  what  labour  is  after  is  more 
money,  isn't  it?  —  and  they're  taking  advan 
tage  of  a  critical  situation  to  get  it.  And  when 
they  get  money,  most  of  them  blow  it  in  on 
sprees. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  George,  what  are  you  going 
to  France  to  fight  for? 

GEORGE,     Germany's   insulted   our  flag,   mur- 


DR.  JONATHAN  35 

dered  our  people  on  the  high  seas  and  wants  to 
boss  the  world. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (smiling).  The  issue,  then,  is 
human  freedom. 

GEORGE.     Sure  thing! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  you  think  every  man 
and  woman  in  this  country  is  reasonably  free? 

GEORGE.  Every  man  can  rise  if  he  has  the 
ability. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     What  do  you  mean  by  rise? 

GEORGE.  He  can  make  money,  set  up  for  him 
self  and  be  his  own  boss. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  In  other  words,  he  can  be 
come  free. 

GEORGE  (grinning).  I  suppose  that's  one  way 
of  putting  it. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Money  gives  him  freedom, 
doesn't  it  ?  Money  gave  you  yours, —  to  go  to 
school  and  college  until  you  were  twenty  four, 
and  get  an  education, —  such  as  it  was. 

GEORGE.     Such  as  it  was  ! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Money  gave  you  the  choice 
of  engaging  in  an  occupation  in  which  you  could 
take  an  interest  and  a  pride,  and  enabled  you  oc 
casionally  to  go  on  a  spree,  if  you  ever  went  on 
a  spree,  George. 


36  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE.     Once  in  a  while. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  this  craving  for  amuse 
ment,  for  excitement  and  adventure  isn't  peculiar 
to  you  and  me.  Workingmen  have  it  too, —  and 
working  girls. 

GEORGE.     You're  a  wise  guy,  I  guess. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Oh  no, —  not  that !  But  I've 
found  out  that  you  and  I  are  not  so  very  different 
from  Timothy  Farrell  and  his  children, —  Bert 
and  Jamesy  and  —  Minnie. 

GEORGE  (startled,  and  looking  around  to 
folloiv  DR.  JONATHAN'S  glance  toivard  the 
windows).  What  do  you  know  about  — 
them? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Oh,  nothing  at  first  hand. 
But  I  can  see  why  Bert's  going  to  the  war,  and 
why  Jamesy  took  to  drink,  and  why  Minnie  left 
Foxon  Falls. 

GEORGE.     The  deuce  you  can! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  so  can  you,  George. 
When  you  get  back  from  France  you  will  know 
what  you  have  been  fighting  for. 

GEORGE.     And  what's  that? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Economic  freedom,  without 
which  political  freedom  is  a  farce.  Industrial 
democracy. 


DR.  JONATHAN  37 

GEORGE.  Industrial  democracy!  Well,  it 
wasn't  included  in  my  education  at  Harvard. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Our  education  begins,  unfor 
tunately,  after  we  leave  Harvard, —  with  Bert 
and  Jamesy  and  Minnie.  And  here's  Minnie, 
now! 

GEORGE  (hastily).  I'll  beat  it!  Mother  wants 
to  talk  to  her. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (his  hand  on  GEORGE'S  arm). 
No, —  wait. 

(Enter,  lower  right,  AUGUSTA,  followed  by 
MINNIE  FARRELL.  MINNIE,  AUGUSTA'S 
back  being  turned  toivard  her,  gives 
GEORGE  a  wink,  which  he  acknowledges, 
and  then  glances  toiuard  DR.  JONATHAN. 
AUGUSTA,  with  her  knitting,  seats  herself 
in  an  armchair.  Her  attitude  is  somezvhat 
inquisitorial;  her  tone,  as  she  addresses 
MINNIE,  non-committal.  She  is  clearly 
offended  by  MINNIE'S  poise  and  good- 
natured  self-assertion.) 

AUGUSTA.  You  remember  Mr.  Pindar,  Min 
nie. 

MINNIE  (demurely).  Glad  to  meet  you 
again,  Mr.  Pindar.  I  hear  you're  going  off  to  the 
war.  Well,  that's  great. 


38  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE  (squeezing  her  hand;  she  winces  a  lit 
tle).  Oh,  yes, —  I  remember  Minnie. 

AUGUSTA.     And  this  is  Dr.  Jonathan  Pindar. 

MINNIE  (who  has  been  eyeing  DR.  JONATHAN 
as  a  possible  enemy;  with  reserve).  Glad  to 
meet  you,  I'm  sure. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (smiling  at  her  as  he  takes  her 
hand).  The  pleasure  is  —  mutual. 

MINNIE  (puzzled,  but  somewhat  reassured). 
Glad  to  meet  you. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I've  come  to  live  in  Foxon 
Falls.  I  hope  we'll  be  friends. 

MINNIE.  I  hope  so.  I'm  going  back  to  New 
castle  this  afternoon,  there's  nothing  doing  here. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Would  you  stay,  if  there 
were  something  doing? 

MINNIE.  I  —  I  don't  know.  What  would  I 
be  doing  here  ? 

AUGUSTA  (disapprovingly,  surveying  MINNIE'S 
costume).  I  don't  think  I  should  have  recog 
nized  you,  Minnie. 

MINNIE.  City  life  agrees  with  me,  Mrs.  Pin 
dar.  But  I  needed  a  little  rest  cure,  and  I  came 
to  see  what  the  village  looked  like. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  A  sort  of  sentimental  jour 
ney,  Minnie. 


DR.  JONATHAN  39 

MINNIE  (flashing  a  look  at  GEORGE,  and  an 
other  at  DR.  JONATHAN).  Well,  you  might  call 
it  that.  I  get  you. 

AUGUSTA.  Minnie,  what  church  do  you  attend 
in  Newcastle  ? 

MINNIE.  Well,  I  haven't  got  a  seat  in  any 
particular  church,  Mrs.  Pindar. 

AUGUSTA.  I  didn't  expect  you  to  go  to  the  ex 
pense  of  getting  a  seat.  I  hope  you  delivered  the 
letter  our  minister  gave  you  to  the  minister  of  the 
First  Church  in  Newcastle. 

MINNIE.  No,  I  didn't,  Mrs.  Pindar,  and  that's 
the  truth.  I  never  went  near  a  church. 

AUGUSTA  (drily).  It's  a  pity  you  ever  went 
to  Newcastle,  I  think. 

MINNIE.  It's  some  town!  Every  time  you 
ride  into  it  you  see  a  big  sign,  "  Welcome  to  New 
castle,  population  one  hundred  and  six  thousand, 
and  growing  every  day.  Goodbye,  and  thank 
you ! " 

AUGUSTA  (knitting).  You  drive  about  in  au 
tomobiles  ! 

MINNIE.     Oh,  sometimes  I  get  a  joy  ride. 

AUGUSTA.  It  grieves  me  to  hear  you  talk  in 
this  way.  I  knew  you  were  pleasure  loving,  I 
thought  I  saw  certain  tendencies  in  you,  yet  you 


40  DR.  JONATHAN 

seemed  to  realize  the  grace  of  religion  when  you 
were  in  my  Bible  class.  Your  brother  Jamesy 
took  to  drink  — 

MINNIE.  And  I  took  to  religion.  You  meant 
to  be  kind,  Mrs.  Pindar,  and  I  thank  you.  But 
now  I  know  why  Jamesy  took  to  drink  —  it  was 
for  the  same  reason  I  took  to  religion. 

AUGUSTA  (scandalized).     Minnie! 

MINNIE.  We  were  both  trying  to  be  free,  to 
escape. 

AUGUSTA.     To  escape?     From  what? 

MINNIE  (with  a  gesture  indicating  futility). 
I  guess  it  would  be  pretty  hard  to  get  it  across  to 
you,  Mrs.  Pindar.  But  I  was  working  ten  hours 
a  day  packing  tools  in  your  shops,  and  all  you 
gave  me  when  the  whistle  blew  was  —  Jesus. 
(A  pause:  GEORGE  takes  a  step  toivard  her.) 

Jamesy  took  to  drink,  and  I  took  to  Jesus. 
I'm  not  saying  anything  against  Him.  He  had 
His  life,  but  I  wanted  mine.  Maybe  He  would 
have  understood. 

(Turning    impulsively    toward    DR.    JONA 
THAN.) 

I've  got  a  hunch  that  you  understand. 

AUGUSTA.  Minnie,  I  can't  let  you  talk  about 
religion  in  this  way  in  my  presence. 


DR.  JONATHAN  41 

MINNIE.  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Pindar,  I  knew  it 
wasn't  no  use  to  come  and  see  you, —  I  told  father 
so. 

AUGUSTA.  I  suppose,  if  you're  determined  to 
continue  this  life  of--  (she  catches  herself) 
I  can't  stop  you. 

MINNIE  (flaring  up).  What  life?  Don't 
worry  about  me,  Mrs.  Pindar, —  I  get  twenty  five 
dollars  a  week  at  the  Shale  Works  making  barb 
wire  to  trip  up  the  Huns  with, —  enough  to  get 
nice  clothes —  (she  glances  down  at  her  dress) 
and  buy  good  food,  and  have  a  good  time  on 
the  side. 

AUGUSTA  (whose  conceptions  of  what  she  be 
lieves  to  be  MINNIE'S  kind  are  completely  upset}. 
You  still  work? 

MINNIE.  Work!  Sure  I  work.  I  wouldn't 
let  any  man  get  a  strangle  hold  on  me.  And  I 
don't  kick  at  a  little  overtime,  neither.  I'm  work 
ing  for  what  he's  going  to  fight  for  —  (indicating 
GEORGE)  it  ain't  for  myself  only,  but  for  every 
body  that  ain't  been  free,  all  over  the  world. 
(To  DR.  JONATHAN.)  Ain't  that  right? 

(She  does  not  wait  for  his  nod  of  approval.} 

I  was  just  saying  this  morning — (she  looks 
tozvard  GEORGE  and  catches  herself)  —  I've  been 


42  DR.  JONATHAN 

wishing  all  along  I  could  do  more  —  go  as  a  nurse 
for  some  of  the  boys. 

AUGUSTA.     A  nurse ! 

MINNIE  (to  DR.  JONATHAN).  If  I  was  a  man, 
I'd  have  been  a  doctor,  like  you.  Sick  people 
don't  bother  me,  I  give  myself  to  'em.  Before 
mother  died,  when  she  was  sick,  she  always  said 
I'd  ought  to  have  been  a  nurse.  (A  pause.) 
Well,  I  guess  I'll  go  along.  The  foreman  only 
give  me  a  couple  of  days  off  to  see  the  old  home 
town. 

GEORGE.     Hold  on,  Minnie. 

MINNIE.     What  is  it? 

GEORGE  (to  AUGUSTA).  Minnie  and  I  are  old 
friends,  mother. 

AUGUSTA.     Old  friends? 

GEORGE.  Yes.  I  knew  her  —  very  well  be 
fore  she  went  away  from  Foxon  Falls,  and  I 
went  to  Newcastle  and  took  her  out  for  a  drive 
in  my  car. 

MINNIE  (vehemently).     No,  you  never. 

GEORGE.     Why  do  you  deny  it? 

MINNIE.     There's  nothing  to  it. 

AUGUSTA  (aghast).     George! 

GEORGE.  Well,  it's  true.  I'm  not  ashamed  of 
it,  though  Minnie  appears  to  be. 


DR.  JONATHAN  43 

MINNIE  (on  the  verge  of  tears').  If  you 
wasn't  ashamed,  why  didn't  you  tell  her  before? 
I'm  not  ashamed  of  it,  neither.  It  was  natural. 
AUGUSTA  (after  a  pause,  with  a  supreme  effort 
to  meet  the  situation).  Well,  I  suppose  men  are 
different.  But  there's  no  excuse  for  you,  after 
all  I  tried  to  do  for  you. 

MINNIE.     Thank  God  men  are  different! 
(AUGUSTA  rises.     The  ball  of  wool  drops  to 
the  Hoor  again,  and  DR.  JONATHAN  picks 
it  up.) 

GEORGE.     Mother,  I'd  like  to  tell  you  about  it. 
You  don't  understand. 

AUGUSTA.     I'm  afraid  I  do  understand,  dear. 
(As    she    leaves    the    room,    with    dignity, 
GEORGE  glances  appealingly  at  DR.  JONA 
THAN.) 

DR.  JONATHAN  (going  up  to  MINNIE  and  tak 
ing  her  hand).     Do  you  think  you'd  have  time  to 
drop  in  to  see  me,  Minnie,  before  your  train  goes  ? 
MINNIE    (gazing   at   him;   after   a   moment). 
Sure !     I  guess  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you. 

DR.    JONATHAN.     It's    the    little    white   house 
across  the  Common. 

MINNIE.     Oh,  I  know,  that's  been  shut  up  all 
these  years. 


44  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.     And  is  open  now  again. 
(He  goes  out,  lower  right,  and  there  is  a  brief 
silence  as  the  two  look  after  him.) 

MINNIE.     Say,  who  is  he? 

GEORGE.     Why,  he's  a  cousin  of  mine  — 

MINNIE.  I  don't  mean  that.  He's  somebody, 
ain't  he? 

GEORGE.  By  jingo,  I'm  beginning  to  think 
he  is! 

(They  stand  gazing  at  one  another.) 

MINNIE  (remembering  her  grievance:  passion 
ately).  Now  you've  gone  and  done  it  —  telling 
your  mother  we  were  friends. 

GEORGE.  But  we  are  —  aren't  we?  You 
couldn't  expect  me  to  keep  quiet,  under  the  cir 
cumstances. 

MINNIE.  She  thinks  I'm  not  fit  to  talk  to  you. 
Not  that  I  care,  except  that  I  was  fond  of  her, 
she's  been  good  to  me  in  her  way,  and  I  felt  real 
bad  when  I  went  off  to  Newcastle  with  the  letter 
to  the  minister  I  never  laid  eyes  on.  She'll  be 
lieve  —  you  know  what  she'll  believe, —  it'll  trou 
ble  her.  She's  your  mother,  and  you're  going 
away.  You  might  have  kept  still. 

GEORGE.  I  couldn't  keep  still.  What  would 
you  have  thought  of  me? 


DR.  JONATHAN  45 

MINNIE.  It  don't  make  any  difference  what 
I'd  have  thought  of  you. 

GEORGE.  It  makes  a  difference  to  me,  and  it 
makes  some  difference  what  I  think  of  myself.  I 
seem  to  be  learning  a  good  many  things  this 
morning. 

MINNIE.     From  him? 

GEORGE.     You  mean  Dr.  Jonathan? 

MINNIE.     Yes. 

GEORGE  (reflecting).  I  don't  know.  I'm 
learning  them  from  you,  from  everybody. 

MINNIE.     Maybe  he  put  you  wise. 

GEORGE.  Well,  I  don't  feel  wise.  And  seeing 
you  again  this  morning  brought  it  all  back  to  me. 

MINNIE.     You  were  only  fooling. 

GEORGE.  I  began  that  way, —  I'll  own  up. 
But  I  told  you  I'd  never  met  a  girl  like  you, — 
you're  full  of  pep  —  courage  —  something  I  can't 
describe.  I  was  crazy  about  you, —  that's 
straight, —  but  I  didn't  realize  it  until  you  ran 
off,  and  then  I  went  after  you, —  but  it  was  no 
good !  I  don't  claim  to  have  been  square  with 
you,  and  I've  been  thinking  —  well,  that  I'm  re 
sponsible. 

MINNIE.     Responsible  for  what? 

GEORGE.     Well  —  for  your  throwing  yourself 


46  DR.  JONATHAN 

away  down  there  at  Newcastle.  You're  too 
good. 

MINNIE  (-with  heat).     Throwing  myself  away? 

GEORGE.  Didn't  you?  Didn't  you  break 
loose?  —  have  a  good  time? 

MINNIE.  Why  wouldn't  I  have  a  good  time? 
That's  what  you  were  having, —  a  good  time  with 
me, —  wasn't  it  ?  And  say,  did  you  ever  stop  to 
think  what  one  day  of  a  working  girl's  life  was 
like? 

GEORGE.     One  day? 

MINNIE.  With  an  alarm  clock  scaring  you 
out  of  sweet  dreams  in  the  winter,  while  it's 
dark,  and  you  get  up  and  dress  in  the  cold  and 
heat  a  little  coffee  over  a  lamp  and  beat  it  for  the 
factory, —  and  stand  on  your  feet  all  morning, 
in  a  noise  that  would  deafen  you,  feeding  a  thing 
you  ain't  got  no  interest  in  ?  It  don't  never  need 
no  rest!  By  eleven  o'clock  you  think  you're  all 
in,  that  the  morning'll  never  end,  but  at  noon  you 
get  a  twenty  five  cent  feed  that  lasts  you  until 
about  five  in  the  afternoon, —  and  then  you  don't 
know  which  way  the  machine's  headed.  I've 
often  thought  of  one  of  them  cutters  at  Shale's 
as  a  sort  of  monster,  watching  you  all  day,  wait- 


DR.  JONATHAN  47 

ing  to  get  you  when  you're  too  tired  to  care. 
(Dreamily.)  When  it  looks  all  blurred,  and  you 
want  to  put  your  hand  in  it. 

GEORGE.     Good  God,  Minnie ! 

MINNIE.  And  when  the  whistle  blows  at  night 
all  you  have  is  your  little  hall  bedroom  in  a  room 
ing  house  that  smells  of  stale  smoke  and  cabbage. 
There's  no  place  to  go  except  the  streets  —  but 
you've  just  got  to  go  somewhere,  to  break  loose 
and  have  a  little  fun, —  even  though  you're  so  tired 
you  want  to  throw  yourself  on  the  bed  and  cry. 
(A  pause.) 

Maybe  it's  because  you're  tired.     When  you're 
tired  that  way  is  when  you  want  a  good  time 
most.     It's  funny,  but  it's  so. 
(A  pause.} 

You  ain't  got  no  friends  except  a  few  girls 
with  hall  bedrooms  like  yourself,  and  if  a  chance 
comes  along  for  a  little  excitement,  you  don't 
turn  it  down,  I  guess. 

GEORGE  (after  a  pause).  I  never  knew  what 
your  life  was  like. 

MINNIE.  Why  would  you?  —  with  friends, 
and  everything  you  want,  only  to  buy  it?  But 
since  the  war  come  on,  I  tell  you,  I  ain't  kicking, 


48  DR.  JONATHAN 

I  can  go  to  a  movie  or  the  theatre  once  in  a  while, 
and  buy  nice  clothes,  and  I  don't  get  so  tired  as  I 
used  to.  I  don't  want  nothing  from  anybody,  I 
can  take  care  of  myself.  It's  money  that  makes 
you  free. 

GEORGE.     Money ! 

MINNIE.  When  I  looked  into  this  rpyin  this 
morning  and  saw  you  standing  here  in  your  uni 
form,  I  says  to  myself,  "He's  changed."  Not 
that  you  wasn't  kind  and  good  natured  and  gen 
erous,  George,  but  you  didn't  know.  How  could 
you?  You'd  never  had  a  chance  to  learn  any 
thing! 

GEORGE  (bitterly,  yet  smiling  in  spite  of  him 
self).  That's  so! 

MINNIE.  I  remember  that  first  night  I  ran 
into  you, —  I  was  coming  home  from  your  shops, 
and  you  made  love  to  me  right  off  the  bat !  And 
after  that  we  used  to  meet  by  the  watering  trough 
on  the  Lindon  road.  We  were  kids  then.  And 
it  didn't  make  no  difference  how  tired  I  was,  I'd 
get  over  it  as  soon  as  I  saw  you.  You  were  the 
live  wire ! 

GEORGE.     Minnie,  tell  me,  what  made  you  come 
back  to  Foxon  Falls  today? 
(He  seises  her  hand.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  49 

MINNIE  (struggling).     Don't,  George, —  don't 
go  and  be  foolish  again ! 

(The  shop  whistle  blows.  She  pulls  away 
from  him  and  backs  toward  the  doorway, 
upper  right.) 

There's    the    noon    whistle!     Goodbye,    I'll    be 
thinking  of  you,  over  there. 

GEORGE.     I'll  write  to  you.     Will  you  write  to 
me,  Minnie? 

MINNIE  (shaking  her  head).     Don't  lose  any 
sleep  about  me.     Good  luck,  George ! 

(She  goes  to  the  doorway,  upper  right,  turns, 
kisses  her  hand  to  GEORGE  and  disappears. 
He  goes  to  the  doorway  and  gases  after 
her;  presently  he  raises  his  hand  and 
waves  in  answer  to  another  signal,  and 
smiles.  He  remains  there  until  MINNIE 
is  out  of  sight,  and  then  is  about  to  come 
back  into  the  room  when  a  man  appears  on 
the  sidewalk,  seen  through  the  windows. 
The  man  is  PRAG.  He  is  a  gaunt  work 
man,  with  high  cheek  bones  and  a  rather 
fanatical  light  in  his  blue  eyes.  He 
stands  motionless,  gazing  at  the  house.) 
GEORGE  (calling).  Do  you  want  anything, 
Prag? 


50  DR.  JONATHAN 

PRAG.     I  joost  come  to  look  at  your  house, 
where  you  live.     It  is  no  harm,  is  it? 
GEORGE.     None  at  all. 

(PRAG  continues  to  stare  at  the  house,  and 

GEORGE  obeys  a  sudden  impulse.) 
Won't  you  come  in,  Prag? 

PRAG  (looking  fixedly  at  the  house).  No,  I 
stay  here. 

GEORGE.  Come  in  a  while, —  don't  be  unso 
ciable. 

(PRAG  crosses  the  lawn  and  enters,  upper 
right.     He    surveys    the   room   curiously, 
defiantly,  and  then  GEORGE  in  uniform,  as 
he  comes  down  the  stage.) 
You're  not  working  today? 

PRAG  (with  bitter  gloom).     I  lose  my  job, — 
you  don't  hear?     No,  it  is  nothings  to  you,  and 
you  go  avay  to  fight  for  liberty, —  ain't  it? 
GEORGE.     How  did  you  lose  your  job? 
PRAG.     The   foreman  come  to   me   last  night 
und  says,  "  Prag  I  hear  you  belong  to  the  union. 
You  gets  out." 

GEORGE  (after  a  moment's  hesitation).  But 
—  there  are  plenty  of  other  jobs  these  days. 
You  can  go  down  to  the  coast  and  get  more  than 
five  dollars  a  day  at  a  shipyard. 


DR.  JONATHAN  51 

PRAG.  It  is  easy,  yes,  when  you  have  a  little 
home  bought  already,  and  mortgaged,  and  chil- 
drens  who  go  to  school  here,  and  a  wife  a  long 
time  sick. 

GEORGE.  I'm  sorry.  But  weren't  you  getting 
along  all  right  here,  except  your  wife's  illness? 
I  don't  want  to  be  impertinent, —  I  recognize 
that  it's  your  affair,  but  I'd  like  to  know  why  you 
joined  the  union. 

PRAG.  Why  is  it  you  join  the  army?  To 
fight  for  somethings  you  would  give  your  life 
for  —  not  so  ?  Und  you  are  a  soldier, —  vould 
you  run  away  from  your  comrades  to  live  safe 
and  happy?  No!  That  is  like  me.  I  lose  my 
job,  I  go  away  from  my  wife  and  childrens,  but 
it  is  not  for  me,  it  is  for  all,  to  get  better  things 
for  all, —  freedoms  for  all. 

GEORGE.  Then  —  you  think  this  isn't  a  free 
country. 

PRAG.  When  I  sail  up  the  harbour  at  New 
York  twenty  years  ago  and  see  that  Liberty  shin 
ing  in  the  sun,  I  think  so,  yes.  But  now  I  know, 
for  the  workmens,  she  is  like  the  Iron  Woman  of 
Nuremberg,  with  her  spikes  when  she  holds  you 
in  her  arms.  You  call  me  a  traitor,  yes,  when  I 
say  that. 


52  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE.     No  —  I  want  to  understand. 

PRAG.  I  am  born  in  Bavaria,  but  I  am  as 
good  an  American  as  any, —  better  than  you,  be 
cause  I  know  what  I  fight  for,  what  I  suffer  for. 
I  am  not  afraid  of  the  Junkers  here, —  I  have 
spirits, —  but  the  Germans  at  home  have  no 
spirits.  You  think  you  fight  for  freedoms,  for 
democracy,  but  you  fight  for  this!  (He  waves 
his  hand  to  indicate  the  room.)  If  I  had  a  mil 
lion  dollars,  maybe  I  fight  for  it,  too, —  I  don't 
know. 

GEORGE.  So  you  think  I'm  going  to  fight  for 
this  —  for  money? 

PRAG.  Are  you  going  to  fight  for  me,  for  the 
workmens  und  their  childrens?  No,  you  want 
to  keep  your  money,  to  make  more  of  it  from 
your  war  contracts.  It  is  for  the  capitalist  sys 
tem  you  fight. 

GEORGE.     Come,  now,  capital  has  some  rights. 

PRAG.  I  know  this,  that  capital  is  power. 
What  is  the  workmen's  vote  against  it?  — 
against  your  newspapers  and  your  system? 
America,  she  will  not  be  free  until  your  money 
power  is  broken.  You  don't  like  kings  und  em 
perors,  no, —  you  say  to  us  workmens,  you  are 
not  patriots,  you  are  traitors  if  you  do  not  work 


DR.  JONATHAN  53 

and  fight  to  win  this  war  for  democracy  against 
kings.  Are  we  fools  that  we  should  worry  about 
kings?  Kings  will  fall  of  themselves.  Now  you 
can  put  me  in  jail. 

GEORGE.  I  don't  want  to  put  you  in  jail,  God 
knows !  How  would  you  manage  it  ? 

PRAG.  Why  does  not  the  employer  say  to  his 
workmens,  "  This  is  our  war,  yours  and  mines. 
Here  is  my  contract,  here  is  my  profits,  we  will 
have  no  secrets,  we  will  work  together  und  talk 
together  und  win  the  war  together  to  make  the 
world  brighter  for  our  childrens."  Und  then 
we  workmens  say,  "  Yes,  we  will  work  night  und 
day  so  hard  as  we  can,  because  we  are  free 
mens." 

(A  fanatical  gleam  comes  into  his  eyes.) 
But  your  employer,  he  don't  say  that, —  no.     He 
says,  "  This  is  my  contract,  this  is  my  shop,  und 
if  you  join  the  unions  to  get  your  freedoms  you 
cannot  work  with  me,  you  are  traitors !  " 

(He  rises  to  a  frenzy  of  exaltation.) 
After  this  there  will  be  another  war,   and  the 
capitalists  will  be  swept  away  like  the  kings ! 

(He  pauses;  GEORGE  is  silent.) 
Und  now  I  go  away,  und  maybe  my  wife  she  die 
before  I  get  to  the  shipyard  at  Newcastle. 


54  DR    JONATHAN 

(He  goes  slowly  out,  upper  right,  and 
GEORGE  does  not  attempt  to  stay  him. 
Enter  ASHER,  lower  right.) 

ASHER.  I've  just  called  up  the  Department 
in  Washington  and  given  them  a  piece  of  my 
mind  —  told  'em  they'd  have  to  conscript  labour. 
Damn  these  unions,  making  all  this  trouble, — 
and  especially  today,  when  you're  going  off.  I 
haven't  had  a  chance  to  talk  to  you.  Well,  you 
know  that  I'm  proud  of  you,  my  boy.  Your 
grandfather  went  off  to  the  Civil  War  when  he 
was  just  about  your  age. 

GEORGE.  And  he  knew  what  he  was  going  to 
fight  for. 

ASHER.     What? 

GEORGE.  I  thought  I  knew,  this  morning. 
Now  I'm  not  so  sure. 

ASHER.  You  say  that,  when  Germany  in 
tended  to  come  over  here  and  crush  us,  when  she 
got  through  with  the  Allies. 

GEORGE.  No,  it's  not  so  simple  as  that,  dad, 
it's  bigger  than  that. 

ASHER.  Who's  been  talking  to  you?  Jona 
than  Pindar  ?  I  wish  to  God  he'd  never  come  to 
Foxon  Falls !  I  might  have  known  what  his 
opinions  would  be,  with  his  inheritance.  (Re- 


DR.  JONATHAN  55 

proachfully.)  I  didn't  suppose  you  could  be  so 
easily  influenced  by  sentimentalism,  George, — 
I'd  hoped  you'd  got  over  that. 

GEORGE.  Are  you  sure  it's  sentimentalism, 
dad?  Dr.  Jonathan  didn't  say  much,  but  I'll  ad 
mit  he  started  me  thinking.  I've  begun  to  realize 
a  few  things  — 

ASHER.     What  things  ? 

GEORGE  (glancing  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel). 
I  haven't  got  time  to  tell  you, —  I'm  afraid  I 
couldn't  make  it  clear,  anyway, —  it  isn't  clear 
in  my  own  mind  yet.  But, —  go  slow  with  this 
labour  business,  dad, —  there's  dynamite  in  it. 

ASHER.     Dynamite  ? 

GEORGE.  Human  dynamite,  They're  full  of 
it, —  we're  full  of  it,  too,  I  guess.  They're  not 
so  different  from  you  and  me,  though  I'll  admit 
that  many  of  them  are  ignorant,  prejudiced  and 
bitter.  But  this  row  isn't  just  the  result  of  rest 
lessness  and  discontent, —  that's  the  smoke,  but 
the  fire's  there,  too.  I've  heard  enough  this 
morning  to  be  convinced  that  they're  struggling 
for  something  fundamental,  that  has  to  do  with 
human  progress, —  the  issue  behind  the  war.  It's 
obscured  now,  in  the  smoke.  Now  if  that's  so 
you  can't  ignore  it,  dad,  you  can't  suppress  it, — 


56  DR.  JONATHAN 

the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  sit  down  with  them  and 
try  to  understand  it.  If  they've  got  a  case,  if 
the  union  has  come  to  stay,  recognize  it  and  deal 
with  it. 

ASHER.  You  —  you,  my  son,  are  not  advising 
me  to  recognize  the  union!  To  give  our  em 
ployees  a  voice  in  our  private  affairs! 

GEORGE  (courageously).  But  is  the  war  our 
private  affair,  dad?  Hasn't  it  changed  things 
already  ? 

( ASHER  makes  a  gesture  of  pain,  of  re 
pudiation.  GEORGE  approaches  him  ap 
pealing  ly.) 

Dad,  you  know  how  much  we've  always  been  to 
each  other,  I'd  hate  to  have  any  misunderstanding 
between  us, —  especially  today.  I've  always  ac 
cepted  your  judgment.  But  I'm  over  twenty 
one,  I'm  going  to  fight  this  war,  I've  got  to  make 
up  my  own  mind  about  it. 

ASHER  (extending  his  arms  and  putting  his 
hands  on  GEORGE'S  shoulders).  Something's  up 
set  you  today,  my  boy, —  you  don't  know  what 
you're  saying.  When  you  get  over  there  and 
take  command  of  your  men  you'll  see  things  in  a 
truer  proportion. 

GEORGE.     No,  I  can't  leave  it  this  way,  dad. 


DR.  JONATHAN  57 

I've  come  to  feel  this  thing,  it's  got  hold  of  me 
now,  I  shan't  change.  And  I'll  be  thinking  of  it 
over  there,  all  the  time,  if  we  don't  talk  it  out. 

ASHER.  For  God's  sake,  George,  don't  speak 
of  it  again, —  don't  think  of  it !  There's  no  sac 
rifice  I  wouldn't  make  for  you,  in  reason,  but 
you're  asking  me  to  go  against  my  life-long  con 
victions.  As  your  father,  I  forbid  you  to  en 
tertain  such  ideas — (he  breaks  off,  choking). 
Don't  speak  of  them,  don't  think  of  them! 

(TIMOTHY  FARRELL  steps  inside  the  door 
way,  upper  right,  followed  by  BERT,  and 
after  a  few  moments  by  DR.  JONATHAN.) 

TIMOTHY.  Excuse  me  sir,  but  you  asked  me 
to  be  letting  you  know  if  I  heard  anything. 
There's  a  meeting  called  for  tonight,  and  they'll 
strike  on  Monday  morning.  It's  certain  I  am, 
from  the  way  the  men  are  talking, —  unless  ye'd 
agree  to  meet  the  committee  this  aftternoon  and 
come  to  an  understanding  like. 

ASHER.  Let  them  strike.  If  they  burned 
down  the  shops  this  afternoon,  I  wouldn't  stop 
them!  (He  waves  TIMOTHY  off.)  My  boy  is 
leaving  for  France,  and  I'm  going  to  New  York 
with  him. 

TIMOTHY  (with  a  sudden  flaring  up  of  sym- 


58  DR.  JONATHAN 

pathy).  It's  meself  has  a  boy  going,  too,  Mr. 
Pindar.  And  maybe  it's  almost  the  last  I'll  be 
seeing  of  him,  this  noon  hour.  Just  a  word  with 
ye,  before  it's  too  late,  sir. 

ASHER  (suppressing  him).  No,  let  them 
strike ! 

(He  turns  to  hide  his  emotion  and  then 
rushes  out  of  the  door,  lower  right. 
GEORGE  and  BERT  come  forward  and 
stand  with  TIMOTHY,  silent  after  ASHER'S 
dramatic  exit;  when  TIMOTHY  perceives 
DR.  JONATHAN.) 

TIMOTHY.  Did  you  see  my  Minnie,  doctor? 
She  went  to  your  house. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  met  her  on  the  street  just 
now,  and  left  her  with  Mrs.  Prag. 

GEORGE.  Prag's  wife!  You've  been  to  see 
her? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Yes.  Her  condition  is  seri 
ous.  She  needs  a  nurse,  and  Minnie  volun 
teered. 

TIMOTHY.  My  Minnie,  is  it?  Then  she 
won't  be  going  back  to  Newcastle. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (looking  at  GEORGE).  She 
won't  be  going  back  to  Newcastle. 

TIMOTHY.     That's     Minnie!     (he     turns     to 


DR.  JONATHAN  59 

GEORGE).  Well,  goodbye,  Mr.  George, —  I'll  say 
God  bless  you  again.  (He  looks  at  BERT.) 
You'll  be  fighting  over  there,  the  pair  of  you,  for 
freedom.  Have  an  eye  on  him,  sir,  if  you  can, 
—  give  him  some  good  advice. 

GEORGE  (his  hand  on  BERT'S  shoulder).  Bert 
can  take  care  of  himself,  I  guess.  /'//  be  need 
ing  the  advice ! 

(He  shakes  hands  with  TIMOTHY.) 


CURTAIN. 


ACT  II 

SCENE:  A  fairly  large  room  in  DR.  JONA 
THAN'S  house  in  Fo.von  Falls,  ivhich  has  been 
converted  into  a  laboratory.  The  house  ante 
dates  the  PINDAR  mansion,  having  been  built  in 
the  first  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and 
though  not  large,  has  a  certain  distinction  and 
charm.  The  room  has  a  panelled  wainscoting 
and  a  carved  wooden  mantel,  middle  left, 
painted  white,  like  the  doors.  Into  the  fire 
place  is  set  a  Franklin  stove.  The  windows 
at  the  rear  have  small  panes;  the  lower  sashes 
are  raised;  the  tops  of  the  hollyhocks  and  fox 
gloves  in  the  garden  bed  may  be  seen  above 
the  window  sills,  and  the  apple  trees  beyond. 
Under  the  windows  is  a  long  table,  on  which 
are  chemical  apparatus.  A  white  enamelled 
sink  is  in  the  rear  right  corner.  The  walls  are 
whitewashed,  the  wooden  floor  bare.  A  door, 
left,  m  the  rear,  leads  into  DR.  JONATHAN'S 
60 


DR.  JONATHAN  61 

office;  another,  middle  right,  into  a  little  front 
hall 

TIME:     A  July  morning,  1918. 

MINNIE  FARRELL,  in  the  white  costume  worn  by 
nurses  and  laboratory  workers,  is  at  the  bench, 
pouring  liquid  into  a  test  tube  and  holding  i/1 
up  to  the  light,  when  DR.  JONATHAN  enters 
from  the  right. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Has  anyone  been  in,  Minnie  ? 
MINNIE  (turning,  with  the  test  tube  in  her 
hand).  Now,  what  a  question  to  ask,  Dr.  Jona 
than  !  Was  there  ever  a  morning  or  afternoon 
that  somebody  didn't  stray  in  here  with  their 
troubles?  (Fiercely.)  They  don't  think  a  scien 
tist  has  a  real  job, —  they  don't  understand,  if 
you  put  this  across  —  (she  holds  up  the  test  tube) 
—  you'll  save  the  lives  of  thousands  of  soldiers, 
and  a  few  ordinary  folks,  too,  I  guess.  But  you 
won't  let  me  tell  anyone. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     It  will  be  time  enough  to  tell 
them  when  we  do  put  it  across. 

MINNIE.     But  we're  going  to, —  that  is,  you're 
going  to. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     You're  too  modest,  Minnie. 


62  DR.  JONATHAN 

MINNIE.  Me  modest!  But  what  makes  me 
sore  is  that  they  don't  give  you  a  chance  to  put 
this  thing  across.  Dr.  Semi's  a  back  number, 
and  if  they're  sick  they  come  here  and  expect  you 
to  cure  'em  for  nothing. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  they  can't  complain  if  I 
don't  cure  them. 

MINNIE.  And  half  the  time  they  ain't  sick 
at  all, —  they  only  imagine  it. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Well,  that's  interesting  too, 
—  part  of  a  doctor's  business.  It's  pretty  hard 
to  tell  in  these  days  where  the  body  ends  and  the 
soul  begins. 

MINNIE.  It  looks  like  you're  cutting  out  the 
minister,  too.  You'd  ought  to  be  getting  his 
salary. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Then  I'd  have  to  do  his  job. 

MINNIE.  I  get  you  —  you'd  be  paid  to  give 
'em  all  the  same  brand  of  dope.  You  wouldn't 
be  free. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     To  experiment. 

MINNIE.  You  couldn't  be  a  scientist.  Say, 
every  time  I  meet  the  minister  I  want  to  cry, — 
he  says  to  himself,  "  She  ran  away  from  Jesus 
and  went  to  the  bad.  What  right  has  she  got 
to  be  happy?"  And  Mrs.  Pindar's  just  the 


DR.  JONATHAN  63 

same.  If  you  leave  the  straight  and  narrow 
path  you  can't  never  get  back  —  they  keep  push 
ing  you  off. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (who  has  started  to  work  at 
the  bench).  I've  always  had  my  doubts  about 
your  sins,  Minnie. 

MINNIE.  Oh,  I  was  a  sinner,  all  right, — 
they'll  never  get  that  out  of  their  craniums. 
But  being  a  sinner  isn't  a  patch  on  being  a  scien 
tist  !  It's  nearly  a  year  now  since  you  took  me 
in.  The  time's  flown !  When  I  was  in  the  Pin 
dar  Shops,  and  in  the  Wire  Works  at  Newcastle 
I  could  always  beat  the  other  girls  to  the  Main 
Street  when  the  whistle  blew,  but  now  I'm  sorry 
when  night  comes.  I  can't  hardly  wait  to  get 
back  here  —  honest  to  God !  Say,  Dr.  Jona 
than,  I've  found  out  one  thing, —  it's  being  in 
the  right  place  that  keeps  a  man  or  a  woman 
straight.  If  you're  in  the  wrong  place,  all  the 
religion  in  the  world  won't  help  you.  If  you're 
doing  work  you  like,  that  you've  got  an  interest 
in,  and  that's  some  use,  you  don't  need  religion 
(she  pauses).  Why,  that's  religion, —  it  ain't 
preaching  and  praying  and  reciting  creeds,  it's 
doing  —  it's  fun.  There's  no  reason  why  re 
ligion  oughtn't  to  be  fun,  is  there? 


64  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.     None  at  all ! 

MINNIE.  Now,  if  we  could  get  everybody  in 
the  right  job,  we  wouldn't  have  any  more  wars, 
I  guess. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  The  millennium  always  keeps 
a  lap  ahead  —  we  never  catch  up  with  it. 

MINNIE.  Well,  I  don't  want  to  catch  up  with 
it.  We  wouldn't  have  anything  more  to  do. 
Say,  it's  nearly  eleven  o'clock  —  would  you  be 
lieve  it?  —  and  I've  been  expecting  Mr.  Pindar 
to  walk  in  here  with  the  newspaper.  I  forgot  he 
was  in  Washington. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  He  was  expected  home  this 
morning. 

MINNIE.  What  gets  me  is  the  way  he  hangs 
around  here,  too,  like  everybody  else,  and  yet 
I've  heard  him  call  you  a  Socialist,  and  swear  he 
hasn't  any  use  for  Socialists. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Perhaps  he's  trying  to  find 
out  what  a  Socialist  is.  Nobody  seems  to  know. 

MINNIE.  He  don't  know,  anyway.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  you,  his  shops  would  have  been 
closed  down  last  winter. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  It  looks  as  if  they'd  be  closed 
down  now,  anyway. 

MINNIE  (concerned,  looking  up).     Is  that  so? 


DR.  JONATHAN  65 

Well,  he  won't  recognize  the  union  —  he  doesn't 
know  what  century  he's  living  in.  But  he's  hu 
man,  all  the  same,  and  he's  good  to  the  people 
he's  fond  of,  like  my  father, —  and  he  sure  loves 
George.  He's  got  George's  letters  all  wore 
out,  reading  them  to  people.  (A  pause.)  He 
don't  know  where  George  is,  does  he,  Dr.  Jona 
than? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Somewhere  in  France. 

MINNIE.  We  spotted  Bert  because  he's  with 
the  Marines,  at  that  place  where  they  put  a 
crimp  in  the  Huns  the  other  day  when  they  were 
going  to  walk  into  Paris. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Chateau-Thierry. 

MINNIE.  I'll  leave  it  to  you.  But  say,  Dr. 
Jonathan,  things  don't  look  good  to  me, —  I'm 
scared  we  won't  get  enough  of  our  boys  over 
there  before  the  deal's  closed  up.  I've  got  so  I 
don't  want  to  look  at  a  paper. 

(A  brief  silence.) 

I  never  told  you  George  wrote  me  a  couple  of  let 
ters,  did  I  ? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  No,  I'm  quite  sure  you 
didn't. 

MINNIE.  I  never  told  nobody.  His  father 
and  mother  would  be  wild  if  they  knew  it  I 


66  DR.  JONATHAN 

didn't  answer  them  —  I  just  sent  him  two  post 
cards  with  no  writing  on  except  the  address  — 
just  pictures. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Pictures? 

MINNIE.  One  of  the  Pindar  Church  and  the 
other  of  the  Pindar  Shops.  I  guess  he'll  under 
stand  they  were  from  me,  all  right.  You  see, 
when  I  ran  away  from  the  Pindar  Shops  and 
the  Pindar  Church  —  I  always  connect  them  to 
gether  —  I  was  stuck  on  George.  That's  why 
I  ran  away. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     I  see. 

MINNIE.     Oh,  I  never  let  him  know.     I  don't 
know  why  I  told  you  —  I  had  to  tell  somebody, 
—  and  you  won't  give  me  away. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     You  may  count  on  me. 

MINNIE.  He  didn't  care  nothing  about  me, 
really.  But  you  can't  help  liking  George.  He's 
human,  all  right!  If  he  was  boss  of  the  Pindar 
Shops  there  wouldn't  be  any  strike. 

(A  knock  at  the  door,  right.) 
I  wonder  who's  butting  in  now ! 

(She  goes  to  the  door  and  jerks  it  open.) 

(A  man's  voice,  without.)  Good  morning, 
Miss  Farrell.  Is  the  doctor  in? 

MINNIE.     This  is  his  busy  day. 


DR.  JONATHAN  67 

DR.  JONATHAN  (going  toward  the  door).  Oh, 
it's  you,  Hillman.  Come  in. 

MINNIE.     I  guess  I'll  go  for  the  mail. 

(With  a  resigned  expression  she  goes  out 
right  as  HILLMAN  comes  in,  followed  by 
RENCH  and  FERSEN.  They  are  the  strike 
committee.  HILLMAN  is  a  little  man, 
with  red  hair  and  a  stiff,  bristling  red 
moustache.  He  holds  himself  erect,  and 
walks  on  the  balls  of  his  feet,  quietly. 
RENCH  is  tall  and  thin,  with  a  black  mous 
tache,  like  a  seal's.  He  has  a  loud,  nasal 
voice,  and  an  assertive  manner.  FERSEN 
is  a  blond  Swede.) 

(DR.  JONATHAN  puts  one  or  two  objects  in 
place  on  the  bench.  His  manner  is  casual 
but  cordial,  despite  the  portentous  air  of 
the  Committee.) 

(The  men,  their  hats  in  their  hands,  go  to 
ward  the  bench  and  inspect  the  test  tubes 
and  apparatus.) 

RENCH  (New  England  twang).  Always  man 
age  to  have  something  on  hand  when  you  ain't 
busy  with  the  folks,  doctor.  It  must  be  inter- 
estin'  to  fool  with  these  here  chemicals. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     It  keeps  me  out  of  mischief. 


68  DR.  JONATHAN 

HILLMAN.  I  guess  you  haven't  much  time  to 
get  into  mischief. 

FERSEN.     We  don't  like  to  bother  you. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  No  bother,  Fersen,— sit 
down.  (He  draws  forward  some  chairs,  and 
they  sit  down.)  How  is  the  baby? 

FERSEN.     Oh,  she  is  fine,  now,  since  we  keep 
her  outside  in  the  baby  carriage,  like  you  tell  us. 
(FERSEN    grins,    and   immediately    becomes 
serious  again.    A  brief  silence.) 

HILLMAN  (clearing  his  throat).  The  fact  is, 
Dr.  Jonathan,  the  boys  have  struck, —  voted  last 
night  to  walk  out  at  noon  today. 

FERSEN.  We  thought  we  tell  you  now.  You 
been  such  a  good  friend  to  us  and  our  families. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  isn't  this  rather  sudden, 
with  Mr.  Pindar  in  Washington? 

RENCH.  We  couldn't  wait  no  longer, —  he's 
been  standing  us  off  for  more  than  a  year. 
When  he  comes  back  from  Washington  there'll 
be  nothing  doing.  He's  got  to  recognize  the 
union  or  lose  his  contract. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  He  may  prefer  to  lose  his 
contract. 

RENCH.  Well,  he  can  afford  to.  Then  he 
can  go  to  hell. 


DR.  JONATHAN  69 

HILLMAN.  Hold  on,  Sam,  that  ain't  no  way 
to  talk  to  the  doctor ! 

RENCH.  I  didn't  mean  no  disrespect  to  him. 
He  don't  go  'round  preachin',  like  some  fellers  I 
could  mention,  but  actions  is  louder  than  words. 
Ain't  that  the  reason  we're  here,  because  he  sym 
pathizes  with  us  and  thinks  we're  entitled  to  a 
little  more  of  this  freedom  that's  bein'  handed 
'round?  We  want  you  to  help  us,  doctor. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  It  seems  to  me  you've  come 
a  little  late,  Rench, —  after  the  event. 

HILLMAN.  Maybe  if  you'd  said  a  word, 
they'd  never  have  voted  to  strike. 

FERSEN.     But  you  never  said  nothing,  Doctor. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Well,  when  you  get  around 
to  admitting  doctors  to  your  labour  unions,  per 
haps  they'll  talk. 

HILLMAN.     If  all  the  doctors  was  like  you! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Give  'em  a  chance,  Hill- 
man. 

HILLMAN.  We  don't  have  to  explain  to  you 
why  we  want  the  union, —  it's  the  only  way  we'll 
ever  get  a  say  about  the  conditions  in  which  we 
work  and  live,  now  that  the  day  of  individual 
bargaining  is  gone  by.  You  understand.  Mr. 
Pindar  raised  our  wages  when  we  threatened  to 


70  DR.  JONATHAN 

strike  last  fall,  but  he  calculates  to  drop  'em  again 
when  the  soldiers  come  home. 

FERSEN  (nodding).     Sure  thing! 

HILLMAN.  It's  this  way,  doctor.  We  notice 
Mr.  Pindar  comin'  in  here  to  see  you  every  day 
or  so, —  like  the  rest  of  Foxon  Falls.  And  we 
thought  you  could  make  him  see  this  thing 
straight,  if  any  man  could. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     So  the  shops  will  be  idle. 

RENCH.  Not  a  shaft'll  turn  over  till  he  recog 
nizes  the  union. 

HILLMAN.  We  don't  want  to  do  nothin'  to 
obstruct  the  war,  but  we've  got  to  have  our 
rights. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Can  you  get  your  rights  now, 
without  obstructing  the  war? 

RENCH  (aggressively).  I  get  what  you're 
driving  at,  doctor.  You're  going  to  say  that 
we've  just  reached  quantity  production  on  these 
here  machines,  and  if  labour  gets  from  under 
now,  the  Huns  win.  But  tell  me  this, —  where'll 
labour  be  if  America  wins  and  our  Junkers  (he 
pronounces  the  J)  come  out  on  top?  —  as  they 
callate  to. 

DR.  JONATHAN   (smiling).     When  a  building 


DR.  JONATHAN  71 

with  dry  rot  catches  fire,  Rench,  can  you  put  a 
limit  to  how  much  of  it  will  burn? 

RENCH  (after  a  pause).  Maybe  not.  I  get 
you  —  but  — 

DR.  JONATHAN.  No  nation,  no  set  of  men  in 
any  nation  can  quench  that  fire  or  make  the 
world  that  is  coming  out  of  this  war.  They  may 
think  they  can,  but  they  can't. 

HILLMAN.     That's  so! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Germany  will  be  beaten,  be 
cause  it  is  the  temper  of  the  nation,  the  temper  of 
the  times  —  your  temper.  You  don't  want  Ger 
many  to  win,  Rench? 

RENCH.     No,  I  guess  not. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  if  you  don't  work  here, 
you'll  go  off  to  work  somewhere  else. 

RENCH.     Where  they  recognize  the  union. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  A  good  many  of  your 
friends  have  enlisted,  haven't  they?  (RENCH 
nods.)  And  what  do  you  suppose  they  are  fight 
ing  for? 

RENCH.  For  the  same  thing  as  we  want,  a 
square  deal. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  what  do  you  think 
George  Pindar  is  fighting  for? 


72  DR.  JONATHAN 

RENCH.  I  ain't  got  nothing  to  say  against 
him. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  If  you  close  down  the  Pindar 
Shops,  won't  it  mean  that  a  few  more  of  your 
friends  will  lose  their  lives?  These  men  are 
fighting  for  something  they  don't  yet  understand, 
but  when  they  come  back  they'll  know  more  about 
it.  Why  not  wait  until  George  Pindar  comes 
back? 

RENCH.     He  mayn't  never  come  back. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Give  him  the  opportunity. 

RENCH.  I  like  George, —  he's  always  been 
friendly  —  what  we  call  a  common  man  up  here 
in  New  England  —  naturally  democratic.  But  at 
bottom  employers  is  all  alike.  What  makes  you 
think  he  won't  take  his  ideas  about  labour  from 
the  old  man? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Because  he  belongs  to  the 
generation  that  fights  this  war. 

HILLMAN  (shuffling).  It  ain't  no  use,  doctor. 
Unless  you  can  bring  Mr.  Pindar  'round,  the 
shops'll  close  down. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  can't,  but  something  else 
can. 

HILLMAN.     What? 

DR.     JONATHAN.     Circumstances.     No     man 


DR.  JONATHAN  73 

can  swim  up  stream  very  long  in  these  days,  Hill- 
man.     Wait  a  while,  and  see. 

RENCH  (rising).  We've  voted  to  put  this 
strike  through,  and  by  God,  we'll  do  it. 

FERSEN  (rising  and  shaking  hands  with  DR. 
JONATHAN).  It's  fine  weather,  doctor. 

RENCH  (bursting  into  a  laugh).  He's  like  the 
man  who  said,  when  Congress  declared  war, 
"  It's  a  fine  day  for  it !  "  It's  a  fine  day  for  a 
strike ! 

HILLMAN  (who  has  risen,  shaking  hands  with 
DR.  JONATHAN).  But  you'll  talk  to  Mr.  Pindar, 
anyway  ? 

DR.  JONATHAN  (smiling}.  Yes,  I'll  talk  with 
him. 

(Enter  TIMOTHY  FARRELL,  right,  in  working 
clothes.) 

TIMOTHY.  Good  morning,  doctor.  (Survey 
ing  the  committee.)  So  it's  here  ye  are,  after 
voting  to  walk  out  of  the  shops  just  when  we're 
beginning  to  turn  out  the  machines  for  the  sol 
diers  ! 

RENCH.  If  we'd  done  right  we'd  have  called 
the  strike  a  year  ago. 

TIMOTHY.  Fine  patriots  ye  are  —  as  I'm 
sure  the  doctor  is  after  telling  you  —  to  let  the 


74  DR.  JONATHAN 

boys  that's  gone  over  there  be  murdered  because 
ye  must  have  your  union ! 

HILLMAN.  If  Mr.  Pindar  recognizes  the 
union,  Timothy,  we'll  go  to  work  tomorrow. 

TIMOTHY.  He  recognize  the  union!  He'll 
recognize  the  devil  first!  Even  Dr.  Jonathan, 
with  all  the  persuasion  he  has,  couldn't  get  Mr. 
Pindar  to  recognize  the  union.  He'll  close  down 
the  shops,  and  it's  hunting  a  job  I'll  be,  and  I 
here  going  on  thirty  years. 

RENCII.  If  he  closes  the  shops  —  what  then? 
The  blood  of  the  soldiers'll  be  on  his  head,  not 
ours.  If  there  were  fewer  scabs  in  the  coun 
try - 

HILLMAN.     Hold  on,  Sam. 

TIMOTHY.  A  scab,  is  it?  If  I  was  the  gov 
ernment  do  you  know  what  I'd  do  with  the  likes 
of  you  —  striking  in  war  time?  I'd  send  ye 
over  there  to  fight  the  Huns  with  your  bare  fists. 
I'm  a  workman  meself,  but  I  don't  hold  with 
traitors. 

RENCH.  Who's  a  traitor?  It's  you  who  are 
a  traitor  to  your  class.  If  a  union  card  makes 
a  man  a  traitor,  your  own  son  had  one  in  his 
pocket  the  day  he  enlisted. 

TIMOTHY.     A  traitor,  and  he  fighting  for  his 


DR.  JONATHAN  75 

country,  while  you'd  be  skulking  here  to  make 
trouble  for  it! 

(MINNIE  appears  on  the  threshold  of  the 
door,  right.  DR.  JONATHAN,  who  is  the 
first  to  perceive  from  her  expression  that 
there  is  something  wrong,  takes  a  step  to 
ward  her.  After  a  moment's  silence  she 
comes  up  to  TIMOTHY  and  lays  a  hand  on 
his  arm.} 

TIMOTHY  (bewildered).     What  is  it,  Minnie? 
MINNIE.     Come  home,  father. 
TIMOTHY.     What  is  it?     It's  not  a  message 
ye  have  —  it's  not  a  message  about  Bert  ? 

(MINNIE  continues  to  gaze  at  him.) 
The  one   I'd  be  looking  for  these  many  days ! 
(He  seises  her.)     Can't  ye  speak,  girl?     Is  the 
boy  dead? 

MINNIE.     Yes,  father. 

TIMOTHY  (puts  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and 
lets  fall  his  hat.     DR.  JONATHAN  picks  it  up). 
Me  boy !     The  dirty  devils  have  killed  him ! 
MINNIE.     Come,  father,  we'll  go  home. 
TIMOTHY.     Home,    is    it?     It's    back   to    the 
shops  I'm  going.     (To  the  committee:)  Damn  ye 
—  we'll  run  the  shops  in  spite  of  ye !    Where's 
me  hat  ? 


76  DR.  JONATHAN 

(DR.  JONATHAN  hands  it  to  him  as  the  com 
mittee  file  out  in  silence.) 

Come  with  me  as  far  as  the  shops,  Minnie. 
Thank  you,  doctor — (as  DR.  JONATHAN  gives 
him  the  hat)  —  it's  you  I'll  be  wanting  to  see 
when  I  get  me  mind  again. 

(DR.   JONATHAN   goes  unth   TIMOTHY   and 
MINNIE  as  far  as  the  door,  right,  and  then 
comes    back    thoughtfully    to    the    bench, 
takes  up  a  test  tube  and  holds  it  to  the. 
light.     Presently  ASHER  PINDAR  appears 
in  the  doorway,  right.) 
ASHER.     Good  morning,  Jonathan. 
DR.    JONATHAN.     Good    morning,    Asher.     I 
didn't  know  you'd  got  back   from  Washington. 
ASHER.     I  came  in  on  the  mail  train. 
DR.  JONATHAN.     Have  you  been  to  the  office? 
ASHER.     No.     I  stopped  at  the  house  to  speak 
to  Augusta,  and  then —  (he  speaks  a  trifle  apolo 
getically)  — well,  I  went  for  a  little  walk. 
DR.  JONATHAN.     A  walk. 
ASHER.     I've  been  turning  something  over  in 
my  mind.     And  the  country  looked  so  fine  and 
fresh  I  crossed  the  covered  bridge  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river.     When  George  was  a  child  I 


DR.  JONATHAN  77 

used  to  go  over  there  with  him  on  summer  after 
noons.  He  was  such  a  companionable  little 
shaver  —  he'd  drop  his  toys  when  he'd  see  me 
coming  home  from  the  office.  I  can  see  him 
now,  running  along  that  road  over  there,  stop 
ping  to  pick  funny  little  bouquets  —  the  kind  a 
child  makes,  you  know  —  ox-eyed  daisies  and 
red  clover  and  buttercups  all  mixed  up  together, 
and  he'd  carry  them  home  and  put  them  in  a 
glass  on  the  desk  in  my  study. 

(A  pause.) 

It  seems  like  yesterday !  It's  hard  to  realize  that 
he's  a  grown  man,  fighting  over  there  in  the 
trenches,  and  that  any  moment  I  may  get  a  tele 
gram,  or  be  called  to  the  telephone  —  Have  you 
seen  today's  paper? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     No. 

ASHER.  It  looks  like  more  bad  news, —  the 
Germans  have  started  another  one  of  those  of 
fensives.  I  was  afraid  they  were  getting  ready 
for  it.  West  of  Verdun  this  time.  And  George 
may  be  in  that  sector,  for  all  I  know.  How  is 
this  thing  going  to  end,  Jonathan  ?  That  damned 
military  machine  of  theirs  seems  invincible  —  it 
keeps  grinding  on.  Are  we  going  to  be  able  to 


78  DR.  JONATHAN 

stem  the  tide,  or  to  help  stem  it  with  a  lot  of  raw 
youths.     They've  only  had  a  year's  training. 
DR.  JONATHAN.     Germany  can't  win,  Asher. 
ASHER.     What    makes    you    say    that?     We 
started  several  years  too  late. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     And  Germany  started  several 
centuries  too  late. 

ASHER.     My    God,    I    hope    you're    right.     I 
don't  know. 

(He  walks  once  or  twice  up  and  down  the 

room.) 
I've  had  another  letter. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     This  morning? 
ASHER.     No-      I    got   it   before    I    left    for 
Washington.     But  I  didn't  bring  it  in  to  you  — 
I  wanted  to  think  about  it. 

(He  draws  the  letter,  together  with  a  folded 
paper,  from  his  pocket,  and  lays  the  paper 
down  on  the  bench.     Then  he  adjusts  his 
glasses  and  begins  to  read.) 
"  Dear  dad, 

"  The  sky  is  the  colour  of  smeared  charcoal. 
We  haven't  been  in  the  trenches  long  enough  to 
evolve  web  feet,  so  mine  are  resting  on  a  duck 
board  spread  over  a  quagmire  of  pea  soup.  The 
Heinies  are  right  here,  soaking  in  another  ditch 


DR.  JONATHAN  79 

beyond  a  barbed  wire  fence,  about  the  distance  of 
second  base  from  the  home  plate.  Such  is  mod 
ern  war! 

"  But  these  aren't  the  things  that  trouble  me. 
Last  night,  when  I  was  wet  to  the  skin  and  listen 
ing  to  the  shells  —  each  singing  its  own  song  in 
the  darkness  —  I  was  able  to  think  with  aston 
ishing  ease  —  better  than  if  I  were  sitting  at  a 
mahogany  desk  in  a  sound  proof  room!  I  was 
thinking  over  the  talk  we  had  the  day  I  left  home, 
—  do  you  remember  it  ?  —  about  the  real  issue 
of  this  war.  I've  thought  of  it  time  and  again, 
but  I've  never  written  you  about  it.  Since  I 
have  been  in  France  I  have  had  a  liberal  educa 
tion  gathered  from  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men.  Right  here  in  the  trench  near  me  are  a 
street  car  conductor,  a  haberdasher,  a  Swedish 
farm  hand,  a  grocery  clerk,  a  college  professor, 
a  Pole  from  the  Chicago  Stock  Yards,  an  Irish 
American  janitor  of  a  New  York  apartment 
house,  and  Grierson  from  Cleveland,  whose 
father  has  an  income  of  something  like  a  million 
a  year.  We  have  all  decided  that  this  is  a  war 
for  the  under  dog,  whether  he  comes  from  Bel 
gium  or  Armenia  or  that  so-called  land  of  De 
mocracy,  the  United  States  of  America.  The 


8o  DR.  JONATHAN 

hope  that  spurs  us  on  and  makes  us  willing  to 
endure  these  swinish  surroundings  and  die  here 
in  the  mud,  if  need  be,  is  that  the  world  will  now 
be  reorganized  on  some  intelligent  basis ;  that 
Grierson  and  I,  if  we  get  back,  won't  have  to  rot 
on  a  large  income  and  petrified  ideas,  but  will 
have  some  interesting  and  creative  work  to  do. 
Economic  inequalities  must  be  reduced,  and  those 
who  toil  must  be  given  a  chance  to  live,  not 
merely  to  exist.  Their  lives  must  include  a  lit 
tle  leisure,  comfortable  homes,  art  and  beauty  and 
above  all  an  education  that  none  of  us,  especially 
those  of  us  who  went  to  universities,  never  got, 
—  but  which  now  should  be  available  for  all. 

"The  issue  of  this  war  is  industrial  democracy, 
without  which  political  democracy  is  a  farce. 
That  sentence  is  Dr.  Jonathan's.  But  when  I 
was  learning  how  to  use  the  bayonet  from  a  Brit 
ish  sergeant  in  Picardy  I  met  an  English  manu 
facturer  from  Northumberland.  He  is  tempo 
rarily  an  officer.  I  know  your  opinion  of  theo 
rists,  but  this  man  is  working  out  the  experiment 
with  human  chemicals.  After  all,  the  Constitu 
tion  of  the  United  States,  now  antiquated  and 
revered,  once  existed  only  in  the  brains  of  French 
theorists !  In  the  beginning  was  the  Word,  but 


DR.  JONATHAN  81 

the  deed  must  follow.  This  Englishman,  whose 
name  is  Wray,  has  given  me  the  little  pamphlet 
he  wrote  from  his  experience,  and  I  shall  send  it 
to  you. 

"  Though  I  am  writing  this  letter  in  what  to 
me  is  a  solemn  and  undoubtedly  exalted  hour, 
I  am  sure  that  my  mind  was  never  clearer  or 
saner.  Dad,  I  have  set  my  heart  on  inaugurating 
an  experiment  in  industrial  democracy  in  Foxon 
Falls  !  I'd  like  to  be  able  to  think  —  if  anything 
happened  to  me  —  that  the  Pindar  shops  were 
among  the  first  in  America  to  recognize  that  we 
are  living  in  a  new  era  and  a  changed  world/' 
(ASHER  walks  over  to  the  bench  and  lays 

dozvn  the  open  letter  on  it.) 
If  anything  should  happen  to  that  boy,  Jonathan, 
there  wouldn't  be  anything  in  life  left  for  me! 
Industrial  democracy!     So  you  put  that  into  his 
head !     Socialism,  I  suppose. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     No,  experimental  science. 

ASHER.  Call  it  what  you  like.  What  sur 
prises  me  is,  when  I  look  back  over  the  months 
you've  been  here,  how  well  we've  got  along  in 
spite  of  your  views. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Why  not  say  in  spite  of 
yours,  Asher? 


82  DR.  JONATHAN 

ASHER  (smiling  involuntarily).  Well,  it's 
been  a  comfort  to  drop  in  here  and  talk  to  you, 
in  spite  of  what  you  believe.  You've  got  the  gift 
of  sympathy,  Jonathan.  But  I  don't  approve  of 
you're  spending  your  time  in  this  sort  of  work 
—  (he  waves  a  hand  toward  the  bench)  —  which 
may  never  come  to  anything,  and  in  doctoring 
people  for  nothing  and  patching  up  their  troubles. 
I  daresay  you  enjoy  it,  but  what  worries  me  is 
how  you  are  going  to  live? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  By  practising  your  cardinal 
virtue,  thrift. 

ASHER.  I've  got  a  proposal  to  make  to  you  — 
part  of  a  scheme  I've  been  turning  over  in  my 
mind  for  the  last  six  months  —  and  when 
George's  letter  came  I  decided  to  put  it  through. 
I  went  to  New  York  and  had  Sterry,  a  corpora 
tion  lawyer,  draw  it  up.  I'm  going  to  prove  I'm 
not  a  mossback.  It  will  reorganize  the  Pindar 
Shops. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Well,  that's  good  news. 

ASHER.  First,  with  reference  to  your  part  in 
it,  I  shall  establish  a  free  hospital  for  my  em 
ployees,  and  put  you  in  charge  of  it,  at  a  salary 
of  five  thousand  a  year.  After  all,  you're  the 


DR.  JONATHAN  83 

only  Pindar  left  except  George,  and  I'm  satis 
fied  that  as  a  doctor  you're  up  to  the  job,  since 
you've  driven  Dr.  Senn  out  of  business. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Practical  proof,  Asher. 
Fortunately  Dr.  Senn  has  enough  to  live  on. 

ASHER.  In  offering  you  this  position  I  have 
only  one  stipulation  to  make — (he  clears  his 
throat)  — it's  about  Minnie  Farrell.  I  think  the 
world  of  Timothy,  I  wouldn't  willingly  hurt  his 
feelings,  but  I  can't  have  Minnie  with  you  in  the 
hospital,  Jonathan.  You  deserve  a  great  deal  of 
credit  for  what  you've  done  for  the  girl,  you've 
kept  her  out  of  mischief,  but  considering  her  past, 
her  life  at  Newcastle  —  well,  even  if  I  approved 
of  having  her  in  the  hospital  Augusta  would 
never  hear  of  it.  And  then  she  had  some  sort 
of  an  affair  with  George  —  I  daresay  there  was 
nothing  wrong  — 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Wrong  is  a  question  of  code, 
Asher.  We've  all  had  pasts—  What  interests 
me  is  Minnie's  future. 

ASHER.  Of  course  you  wouldn't  decline  my 
offer  on  Minnie's  account. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  On  my  own  account,  Asher. 
We'll  say  no  more  about  Minnie. 


84  DR.  JONATHAN 

ASHER.  You  refuse  to  help  me,  when  I'm 
starting  out  on  a  liberal  scheme  which  I  thought 
you  would  be  the  first  to  endorse? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  have  not  refused  to  help 
you, —  but  you  have  not  told  me  the  scheme? 

ASHER.  Well.  (He  taps  the  paper  in  his 
hand.)  For  those  employees  who  serve  me 
faithfully  I  have  arranged  pensions. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  For  those,  in  other  words, 
who  refrain  from  taking  their  destinies  in  their 
own  hands,  and  who  do  as  you  wish. 

ASIIER.  For  those  who  are  industrious  and 
make  no  trouble.  And  I  have  met  the  objection 
that  they  have  no  share  in  the  enterprise  by  al 
lowing  them,  on  favourable  terms,  to  acquire 
stock  in  the  company. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  see.  You  will  let  them 
acquire  half  of  the  stock,  in  order  that  they  may 
have  an  equal  voice. 

ASHER.     Equal?     It's  my  company,  isn't  it? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     At  present. 

ASHER.  I  supply  the  capital.  Furthermore, 
I  have  arranged  for  a  system  of  workmen's  com 
mittees,  which  I  recognize,  and  with  which  I 
will  continually  consult.  That's  democratic 
enough  —  isn't  it?  If  the  men  have  any  griev- 


DR.  JONATHAN  85 

ances,  these  will  be  presented  in  an  orderly  man 
ner  through  the  committees. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  if  you  find  the  demands 
—  reasonable,  you  grant  them. 

ASHER.  Certainly.  But  one  thing  I  set  my 
face  against  as  a  matter  of  principle,  I  won't 
recognize  the  unions. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  —  who  is  to  enforce  the 
men's  side  of  this  contract? 

ASHER.     What  do  you  mean? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  What  guarantee  have  they, 
other  than  a  union  organization,  that  you  will 
keep  faith? 

ASHER.     My  word. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Oh! 

ASHER.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  regarded  my 
possessions  as  my  own.  I  am  a  trustee. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     The  sole  trustee. 

ASHER.     Under  God. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  you  have  God's  proxy. 
Well,  it  seems  to  me  that  that  is  a  very  delight 
ful  arrangement,  Asher, —  William  appears  to 
approve  of  it,  too. 

ASHER.     William?     William   who? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     William  Hohenzollern. 

ASHER.     You  compare  me  to  the  Kaiser ! 


86  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Only  in  so  far  as  you  have 
in  common  a  certain  benevolence,  Asher. 
Wouldn't  your  little  plan,  if  your  workmen  ac 
cepted  it,  keep  you  in  as  a  benevolent  autocrat  ? 

ASHER.     Me?  an  autocrat? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  You  are  preparing  to  give 
your  men  more  privileges,  and  perhaps  more 
money  on  the  condition  that  they  will  renounce 
rights  to  which  they  are  entitled  as  free  men. 
You  are  ready  to  grant  anything  but  a  constitu 
tion.  So  is  William. 

ASHER.  Do  you  seriously  suggest  that  I  give 
labour  a  voice  in  my  business? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Doesn't  George  suggest  it, 
when  he  pleads  for  industrial  democracy?  He 
seems  to  think  that  he  is  ready  to  give  his  life 
for  it.  And  Bert  Farrell  has  already  given  his 
life  for  it. 

ASHER  (agitatedly).  What?  Timothy's  boy, 
Bert?  Is  he  dead?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me? 

DR.  JONATHAN  (gently).  I've  had  no  chance. 
Minnie  and  Timothy  were  here  just  before  you 
came  in. 

ASIIER.  Oh  God,  I'm  sorry  —  I'm  sorry  for 
Timothy.  It  might  have  been  —  I'll  go  and  see 
Timothy.  Where  is  he?  —  at  his  house. 


DR.  JONATHAN  87 

DR.  JONATHAN.  No,  at  the  shops.  He 
wanted  to  keep  working  until  they  close  down. 

ASHER  (who  has  started  for  the  door,  right, 
turns}.  What  do  you  mean? 

(There  is  a  knock  at  the  door.) 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  mean  that  the  moment  has 
come,  Asher,  to  remember  George.  That  your 
opportunity  is  here  —  heed  it. 

ASHER.  I  can't,  I  won't  desert  my  princi 
ples  — 

(The  knock  is  repeated.  DR.  JONATHAN 
goes  to  the  door  and  opens  it.  Enter,  in 
the  order  named,  HILLMAN,  RENCH  and 
FERSEN. 

HILLMAN.  Beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pindar, 
we've  been  waiting  for  you  at  the  office,  and  we 
heard  you  was  here. 

ASHER  (facing  them  with  a  defiance  almost 
leonine).  Well,  what  is  it? 

HILLMAN  (glancing  at  DR.  JONATHAN). 
There's  a  matter  we'd  like  to  talk  over  with  you, 
Mr.  Pindar,  as  soon  as  convenient. 

ASHER.  This  is  as  convenient  as  any  time, — 
right  now. 

HILLMAN.  The  men  voted  to  strike,  last 
night.  Maybe  Dr.  Jonathan  has  told  you. 


88  DR.  JONATHAN 

ASHER.  Voted  to  strike  behind  my  back  while 
I  was  in  Washington  attending  to  the  nation's 
business ! 

RENCH.  It  ain't  as  if  this  was  anything  new, 
Mr.  Pindar,  as  if  we  hadn't  been  discussing  this 
here  difference  for  near  a  year.  You've  had 
your  warning  right  along. 

ASHER.  Didn't  I  raise  your  wages  last  Janu 
ary? 

HILLMAN.  Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Pindar.  (He 
looks  at  DR.  JONATHAN.)  It  oughtn't  to  be  only 
what  you  say  —  what  capital  says.  Collective 
bargaining  is  only  right  and  fair,  now  that  in 
dividual  bargaining  has  gone  by.  We  want  to 
be  able  to  talk  to  you  as  man  to  man, —  that's 
only  self-respecting  on  our  part.  All  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  say  one  word,  that  you'll  recognize 
the  union,  and  I'll  guarantee  there  won't  be  any 
trouble. 

RENCH.     If  you  don't,  we  walk  out  at  noon. 

HILLMAN  (with  an  attempt  at  conciliation). 
I  know  if  we  could  sit  down  and  talk  this  thing 
out  with  you,  Mr.  Pindar,  you'd  see  it  reason 
able. 

ASHER.  Reasonable?  Treasonable,  you 
mean, —  to  strike  when  the  lives  of  hundreds  of 


DR.  JONATHAN  89 

thousands  of  your  fellow  countrymen  depend  on 
your  labour. 

RENCH.     We  ain't  striking  —  you're  striking! 

FERSEN   (nodding).     That's  right! 

RENCH.  We're  ready  to  go  back  to  work  this 
afternoon  if  you  treat  us  like  Americans.  (FER 
SEN  nods.)  You  say  we're  obstructing  the  war 
by  not  giving  in, —  what's  the  matter  with  you 
giving  in?  Ain't  the  employers  just  as  much 
traitors  as  we  ? 

HILLMAN.  Hold  on,  Sam, —  we  won't  gel 
nowhere  by  calling  names.  Let's  discuss  il 
cool! 

ASHER.     I  refuse  to  discuss  it. 

(He  takes  the  paper  out  of  his  pocket  and 

holds  it  up.) 

Do  you  see  this  paper?  It's  a  plan  I  had  made, 
of  my  own  free  will,  for  the  betterment  and 
advancement  of  the  working  class.  It  was  in 
spired  by  the  suggestion  of  my  son,  who  is  now 
fighting  in  France.  I  came  back  to  Foxon  Falls 
this  morning  happy  in  the  hope  that  I  was  to  do 
something  to  encourage  what  was  good  in  labour 
—  and  how  have  I  been  met?  With  a  demand, 
with  a  threat.  I  was  a  fool  to  think  you  could 
stand  decent  treatment! 


90  DR.  JONATHAN 

(He  seizes  the  paper,  and  tears  it  in  two.) 

HILLMAN.     Wait  a  minute,   Mr.   Pindar.     If 

you  won't  listen  to  us,  maybe  Dr.  Jonathan  would 

say  a  word  for  us.     He  understands  how  we  feel. 

ASHER  (savagely  tearing  the  paper  in  two,  and 

then    again    in    four).     That's    my    answer!     I 

won't  have  Dr.  Pindar  or  anyone  else  interfering 

in  my  private  affairs. 

RENCH.  All  right  —  I  guess  we're  wasting 
time  here,  boys.  We  walk  out  and  stay  out. 
(Threateningly.)  Not  a  shaft'll  turn  over  in 
them  shops  until  you  recognize  the  union.  And 
if  that's  treason,  go  back  to  Washington  and  tell 
'em  so.  Come  on  boys! 

(He  walks  out,  followed  by  FERSEN,  nod 
ding,  and  lastly  by  HILLMAN,  who  glances 
at  DR.  JONATHAN.     ASHER  stares  hard  at 
them  as  they  leave.     Then  an  expression 
of  something  like  agony  crosses  his  face.) 
ASHER.     My  God,  it's  come!     My  shops  shut 
down,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  and  when  the 
government  relies  on  me ! 

(DR.  JONATHAN  stoops  down  and  picks  up 
the  fragments  of  the  document  from  the 
fioor.) 
What  are  you  doing? 


DR.  JONATHAN  91 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Trying  to  save  the  pieces, 
Asher. 

ASHER.     I've  got  no  use  for  them  now. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     But  history  may  have. 

ASHER.  History.  History  will  brand  these 
men  with  shame  for  all  time.  I'll  fix  'em!  I'll 
go  back  to  Washington,  and  if  the  government 
has  any  backbone,  if  it's  still  American,  they'll 
go  to  work  or  fight !  (Pointedly.)  This  is  what 
comes  of  your  Utopian  dreams,  of  your  social 
ism ! 

(A  POLAK  WOMAN  is  seen  standing  in  the 
doorway,  right.) 

WOMAN.     Doctor! 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Yes. 

WOMAN.  My  baby  is  seek  —  I  think  maybe 
you  come  and  see  him.  Mrs.  Ladislaw  she  tell 
me  you  cure  her  little  boy,  and  that  maybe  you 
come,  if  I  ask  you. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Yes,  I'll  come.  What  is 
your  name? 

WOMAN.     Sasenoshky. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Your  husband  is  in  the 
shops  ? 

WOMAN.  He  was,  doctor.  Now  he  is  in  the 
American  army. 


92  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Sasenoshky  —  in  the  Ameri 
can  army. 

WOMAN  (proudly).  Yes,  he  is  good  Ameri 
can  now, —  he  fight  to  make  them  free  in  the  old 
country,  too. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Well,  we'll  have  a  look  at  the 

baby.     He  may  be  in  the  White  House  some  day 

-President   Sasenoshky!     I'll   be   back,   Asher. 

(The  noon  whistle  blows.) 
ASHER.     That's  the  signal !     I'll  get  along,  too. 
DR.  JONATHAN.     Where  are  you  going? 
ASIIER.     I  guess  it  doesn't  make  much  differ 
ence  where  I  go. 

(He  ivalks  out,  followed  by  DR.  JONATHAN 
and  the  WOMAN.  The  room  is  empty  for 
a  moment,  and  then  MINNIE  FARRELL  en 
ters  through  the  opposite  door,  left,  from 
DR.  JONATHAN'S  office.  She  gazes  around 
the  room,  and  then  goes  resolutely  to  the 
bench  and  takes  up  several  test  tubes  in 
turn,  holding  them  to  the  light.  Suddenly 
her  eye  falls  on  GEORGE'S  letter,  which 
ASHER  has  left  open  on  the  bench  with 
the  envelope  beside  it.  MINNIE  slowly 
reaches  out  and  jncks  it  up,  and  then  holds 
it  to  her  lips  .  .  .  She  still  has  the  letter 


DR.  JONATHAN  93 

in  her  hand,  gazing  at  it,  when  AUGUSTA 
PINDAR  enters,  right.) 

AUGUSTA.  Oh,  I  thought  Mr.  Pindar  was 
here ! 

MINNIE.  Perhaps  he's  been  here  —  I  don't 
know.  I  just  came  in.  (She  hesitates  a  second, 
then  goes  to  the  bench  and  lays  the  letter 
doivn. ) 

AUGUSTA.  He  must  have  been  here, —  he  told 
me  he  was  coming  to  talk  with  Dr.  Pindar. 

(She  approaches  the  bench  and  glances  at 

the  letter.) 
Isn't  that  a  letter  from  my  son? 

MINNIE  (a  little  defiantly,  yet  almost  in  tears). 
I  guess  it  is. 

AUGUSTA.     It  was  written  to  you? 

MINNIE.     No. 

AUGUSTA.  Then  what  were  you  doing  with 
it? 

MINNIE.  I  just  —  picked  it  up.  You  think 
I  was  reading  it?  Well,  I  wouldn't. 

AUGUSTA.  Then  how  did  you  know  it  was 
written  by  my  son? 

(MINNIE  is  silent.) 

You  must  be  familiar  with  his  handwriting.     I 
think  I'd  better  take  it.     (She  folds  it  up  and 


94  DR.  JONATHAN 

puts  it  in  the  envelope.)  Does  George  write  to 
you? 

MINNIE.     I've  had  letters  from  him. 

AUGUSTA.     Since  he  went  to  France? 

MINNIE.     Yes. 

AUGUSTA  (after  a  pause).  I've  never  ap 
proved  of  Dr.  Pindar  employing  you  here.  I 
warned  him  against  you  —  I  told  him  that  you 
would  betray  his  kindness  as  you  betrayed  mine, 
but  he  wouldn't  listen  to  me.  I  told  him  that  a 
girl  who  was  capable  of  drawing  my  son  into 
an  intrigue  while  she  was  a  member  of  the 
church  and  of  my  Bible  class,  a  girl  who  had  the 
career  you  had  in  Newcastle,  couldn't  become  a 
decent  and  trustworthy  woman.  The  very  fact 
that  you  had  the  audacity  to  come  back  to  Foxon 
Falls  and  impose  on  Dr.  Pindar's  simplicity, 
proves  it. 

MINNIE.  You  know  all  about  me,  Mrs.  Pin 
dar. 

AUGUSTA.     I  wasn't  born  yesterday. 

MINNIE.  Oh,  ladies  like  you,  Christian 
ladies,  are  hard!  They  won't  believe  nothing 
good  of  anybody  —  only  the  bad.  You've  al 
ways  been  sheltered,  you've  always  had  every 
thing  you'd  want,  and  you  come  and  judge  us 


DR.  JONATHAN  95 

working  girls.  You'd  drive  me  out  of  the  only 
real  happiness  I  ever  had,  being  here  with  a  man 
like  Dr.  Jonathan,  doing  work  it's  a  pleasure  to 
do  —  a  pleasure  every  minute  !  —  work  that  may 
do  good  to  thousands  of  people,  to  the  soldiers 
over  there  —  maybe  to  George,  for  all  you  know  ! 

(She  burst  into  tears.) 

You  can't  understand  —  how  could  you?  After 
all,  you're  his  mother.  I  oughtn't  to  forget  it. 

AUGUSTA.  Yes,  I'm  his  mother.  And  you? 
You  haven't  given  up  the  idea  that  he  may  marry 
you  some  day,  if  you  stay  here  and  pretend  to 
have  reformed.  You  write  to  him.  George 
may  have  been  foolish,  but  he  isn't  as  foolish  as 
that! 

MINNIE.     He  doesn't  care  about  me. 

AUGUSTA.  I'm  glad  you  realize  it.  But  you 
mean  to  stay  here  in  Foxon  Falls,  nevertheless. 
You  take  advantage  of  Dr.  Pindar,  who  is  easily 
imposed  upon,  as  his  father  was  before  him. 
But  if  I  told  you  that  you  might  harm  Dr.  Pindar 
by  staying  here,  interfere  with  his  career,  would 
you  be  willing  to  leave? 

MINNIE.  Me?  Me  doing  Dr.  Jonathan 
harm? 

AUGUSTA.     Yes.     I  happen  to  know  that  he 


96  DR.  JONATHAN 

has  very  little  money.  He  makes  none,  he  never 
asks  anyone  for  a  bill.  He  spends  what  he  has 
on  this  kind  of  thing  — research,  for  the  benefit 
of  humanity,  as  he  thinks, —  but  very  little  re 
search  work  succeeds,  and  even  then  it  doesn't 
pay. 

MINNIE.     He  doesn't  care  about  money. 

AUGUSTA.  Perhaps  not.  He  is  one  of  those 
impractical  persons  who  have  to  be  looked  out 
for,  if  they  are  fortunate  enough  to  have  anyone 
to  look  out  for  them.  Since  he  is  a  cousin  of 
my  husband,  Mr.  Pindar  considers  him  as  one 
of  his  many  responsibilities.  Mr.  Pindar  has 
always  had,  in  a  practical  way,  the  welfare  of  his 
working  people  at  heart,  and  now  he  proposes  to 
establish  a  free  hospital  for  them  and  to  put  Dr. 
Pindar  in  charge  of  it.  This  will  give  him  a 
good  living  as  well  as  a  definite  standing  in  the 
community,  which  he  needs  also. 

MINNIE.  He's  the  biggest  man  in  Foxon 
Falls  today! 

AUGUSTA.  That  is  as  one  thinks.  At  any 
rate,  he  has  this  opportunity.  Are  you  going  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  it? 

MINNIE.     Me  stand  in  the  way  of  it? 

AUGUSTA.     If  Dr.   Pindar  accepts  the  place, 


DR.  JONATHAN  97 

you  can't  go  with  him, —  you  will  have  to  find 
some  other  position.  Mr.  Pindar  is  firm  about 
that,  and  rightly  so.  But  I  believe  Dr.  Pindar 
would  be  quite  capable  of  refusing  rather  than 
inconvenience  anyone  with  whom  he  is  con 
nected. 

MINNIE.     You're  right  there! 

AUGUSTA.     He's  quixotic. 

MINNIE.  If  that's  a  compliment,  you're  right 
again. 

AUGUSTA.     It  isn't  exactly  a  compliment. 

MINNIE.  I  guess  you  mean  he's  queer  —  but 
you're  wrong  —  you're  wrong!  He's  the  only 
man  in  Foxon  Falls  who  knows  what  kind  of  a 
world  we're  going  to  live  in  from  now  on. 
Why?  Because  he's  a  scientist,  because  he's 
trained  himself  to  think  straight,  because  he  un 
derstands  people  like  you  and  people  like  me. 
He  don't  blame  us  for  what  we  do  —  he  knows 
why  we  do  it. 

(A  pause.) 

That's  the  reason  I  try  not  to  blame  you  for  be 
ing  hard  —  you  can't  understand  a  girl  like  me. 
You  can't  understand  George. 

AUGUSTA  (white).  We'll  leave  my  son  out  of 
the  conversation,  if  you  please.  We  were  talk- 


98  DR.  JONATHAN 

ing  of  Dr.  Pindar.  You  seem  to  have  some  con 
sideration  for  him,  at  least. 

MINNIE.     I'd  go  to  the  electric  chair  for  him! 

AUGUSTA.  I'm  not  asking  you  to  do  that. 
MINNIE.  You  want  me  to  go  away  and  get 
another  place.  I  remember  a  lesson  you  gave  us 
one  day  in  Bible  class,  "  Judge  not,  that  you  be 
not  judged," — that  was  what  you  talked  about. 
But  you're  judging  me  on  what  you  think  is  my 
record, —  and  you'd  warn  people  against  hiring 
me.  If  everybody  was  a  Christian  like  that  these 
days,  I'd  starve  or  go  on  the  street. 

AUGUSTA.     We  have  to  pay  for  what  we  do. 

MINNIE.     And  you  make  it  your  business  to 
see  that  we  pay. 
(A  pause.) 

Well,  I'll  go.  I  didn't  know  how  poor  Dr.  Jona 
than  was, —  he  never  said  anything  about  it  to 
me.  I'll  disappear. 

AUGUSTA.     You  have  some  good  in  you. 

MINNIE.  Don't  begin  talking  to  me  about 
good! 

(TIMOTHY  FARRELL  enters,  right.) 

TIMOTHY.  Good  morning,  ma'am.  (Looking 
at  MINNIE  and  AUGUSTA).  I  came  to  fetch 
Minnie  to  pass  an  hour  with  me. 


DR.  JONATHAN  99 

AUGUSTA  (agitated  and  taken  aback).  We  — 
we  were  having  a  little  talk.  (She  goes  up  to 
TIMOTHY.)  I'm  distressed  to  hear  about  Bert! 

TIMOTHY.  Thank  you  for  your  sympathy, 
ma'am. 

(A  brief  silence.     Enter  ASHER,  right.) 

ASHER  (surveying  the  group).  You  here, 
Augusta?  (He  goes  up  to  TIMOTHY  and  presses 
his  hand.)  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Timothy, —  I 
understand  how  you  feel.  We  both  gave  our 
sons  in  this  war.  You've  lost  yours,  and  I  ex 
pect  to  lose  mine. 

AUGUSTA.    Asher ! 

TIMOTHY.     Don't  say  that,  Mr.  Pindar! 

ASHER.  Why  not  ?  What  right  have  I  to  be 
lieve,  after  what  has  happened  in  my  shops  to 
day,  that  he'll  come  back? 

TIMOTHY.  God  forbid  that  he  should  be  lost, 
too  !  There's  trouble  enough  —  sorrow  enough ! 

ASHER.  Sorrow  enough !  But  if  a  man  has 
one  friend  left,  Timothy,  it's  something. 

TIMOTHY  (surprised).  Sure,  I  hope  it's  a 
friend  I  am,  sir, —  a  friend  this  thirty  years. 

ASHER.  We're  both  old  fashioned,  Timothy, 
—  we  can't  help  that. 

TIMOTHY.     I'm  old  fashioned  enough  to  want 


ioo  DR.  JONATHAN 

to  be  working.  And  now  that  the  strike's  on, 
whatever  will  I  do?  Well,  Bert  is  after  giving 
his  life  for  human  liberty, —  the  only  thing  a 
great-hearted  country  like  America  would  be 
fighting  for.  There's  some  comfort  in  that!  I 
think  of  him  as  a  little  boy,  like  when  he'd  be 
carrying  me  dinner  pail  to  the  shops  at  noon,  run- 
nin'  and  leppin'  and  callin'  out  to  me,  and  he  only 
that  high ! 

ASHER.     As  a  little  boy ! 

TIMOTHY.  Yes,  sir,  it's  when  I  like  to  think 
of  him  best.  There's  a  great  comfort  in  childher, 
and  when  they  grow  up  we  lose  them  anyway. 
But  it's  fair  beset  I'll  be  now,  with  nothing  to  do 
but  think  of  him. 

ASHER.  You  can  thank  these  scoundrels  who 
are  making  this  labour  trouble  for  that. 

TIMOTHY.  Scoundrels,  is  it?  Scoundrels  is 
a  hard  word,  Mr.  Pindar. 

ASHER.  What  else  are  they?  Scoundrels 
and  traitors !  Don't  tell  me  that  you've  gone 
over  to  them,  Timothy  —  that  you've  deserted 
me,  too!  That  you  sympathize  with  these  agi 
tators  who  incite  class  against  class ! 

TIMOTHY.  I've  heard  some  of  them  saying, 
sir,  that  if  the  unions  gain  what  they're  after, 


DR.  JONATHAN  iof 

there'll  be  no  classes  at  all  at  all.  And  classes 
is  what  some  of  us  didn't  expect  to  find  in  this 
country,  but  freedom. 

ASHER.  Freedom!  They're  headed  for  an 
archy.  And  they  haven't  an  ounce  of  patriot 
ism. 

TIMOTHY  (meaningly).  Don't  say  that,  sir. 
Me  own  boy  is  after  dying  over  there,  and  plenty 
have  gone  out  of  your  own  shops,  as  ye  can  see 
for  yourself  every  time  you  pass  under  the  office 
door  —  with  some  of  the  stars  in  the  flag  turn 
ing  to  gold.  And  those  who  stays  at  home  and 
works  through  the  night  is  patriots,  too.  The 
unions  may  be  no  better  than  they  should  be,  but 
the  working  man  isn't  wanting  anyone  to  tell 
him  whether  he'd  be  joining  them  or  not. 

ASHER.  I  never  expected  to  hear  you  talk  like 
this! 

TIMOTHY.  Nor  I,  sir.  But  it's  the  sons,  Mr. 
Pindar, —  the  childher  that  changes  us.  I've 
been  thinking  this  morning  that  Bert  had  a  union 
card  in  his  pocket  when  he  went  away, —  and  if 
he  died  for  that  kind  of  liberty,  it's  good  enough 
for  his  old  father  to  live  for.  I  see  how  wicked 
it  was  to  be  old  fashioned, 

ASHER.    Wicked? 


102  DR.  JONATHAN 

TIMOTHY.  Isn't  it  the  old  fashioned  nation 
we're  fighting,  with  its  kings  and  emperors  and 
generals  that  would  crush  the  life  and  freedom 
out  of  them  that  need  life.  And  why  wouldn't 
the  men  have  the  right  to  organize,  sir,  the  way 
that  they'd  have  a  word  to  say  about  what  they'd 
be  doing? 

ASIIER.  You — you  ask  me  to  sacrifice  my 
principles  and  yield  to  men  who  are  deliberately 
obstructing  the  war? 

TIMOTHY.  Oftentimes  principles  is  nothing 
but  pride,  sir.  And  it  might  be  yourself  that's 
obstructing  the  war,  when  with  a  simple  word 
from  you  they'd  go  on  working. 

ASIIER  (agitatedly).  I  can't,  I  won't  recog 
nize  a  labour  union! 

TIMOTHY.  Have  patience,  sir.  I  know  ye've 
a  kind  heart,  and  that  ye've  always  acted  ac 
cording  to  your  light,  the  same  as  me.  But 
there's  more  light  now,  sir, —  it's  shining  through 
the  darkness,  brighter  than  the  flashes  of  the 
cannon  over  there.  In  the  moulding  room  just 
now  it  seems  to  break  all  around  me,  and  me  cry 
ing  like  a  child  because  the  boy  was  gone.  There 
was  things  I  hadn't  seen  before  —  or  if  I  saw 
them,  it  was  only  dim-like,  to  trouble  me  — 


DR.  JONATHAN  103 

(As HER  turns  away.) 

the  same  as  you  are  troubled  now.  And  to  think 
it's  me  that  would  pity  you,  Mr.  Pindar !  I  says 
to  myself,  I'll  talk  to  him.  I  ain't  got  no  learn 
ing,  I  can't  find  the  words  I'm  after  —  but  maybe 
I  can  persuade  him  it  ain't  the  same  world  we're 
living  in. 

ASHER.  I  was  ready  to  recognize  that.  Be 
fore  they  came  to  me  this  morning  I  had  made 
a  plan  to  reorganize  the  shops,  to  grant  many 
privileges. 

TIMOTHY.  You'll  excuse  me,  sir, — but  it's 
what  they  don't  want, —  anyone  to  be  granting 
them  privileges, —  but  to  stand  on  their  own  feet, 
the  same  as  you.  I  never  rightly  understood  un 
til  just  now, —  and  that  because  I  was  always 
looking  up,  while  you'd  be  looking  down,  and 
seeing  nothing  but  the  bent  backs  of  them.  It's 
inside  we  must  be  looking,  sir, —  and  God  made 
us  all  the  same,  you  and  me,  and  Mr.  George  and 
my  son  Bert,  and  the  Polak  and  his  wife  and 
childher.  It's  the  strike  in  every  one  of  us,  sir, 
—  and  half  the  time  we'd  not  know  why  we're 
striking ! 

ASHER.     You're  right  there,  Timothy ! 

TIMOTHY.     But  that  makes  no  difference,  sir. 


io4  DR.  JONATHAN 

It's  what  we  can't  be  reasoning,  but  the  nature  in 
us  all  — 

(He  flings  his  arm  toward  the  open  win- 

doivs. ) 

—  like  the  flowers  and  the  trees  in  the  doctor's 
garden  groping  to  the  light  of  the  sun.  Maybe 
the  one'll  die  for  lack  of  the  proper  soil,  and 
many  is  cruelly  trampled  on,  but  the  rest'll  be 
growing,  and  none  to  stop  'em. 

ASHER  (pacing  to  the  end  of  the  room,  and1 
turning).  No,  I  won't  listen  to  it!  You  —  you 
ask  me  to  yield  to  them,  when  you  have  lost  your 
son,  when  they're  willing  to  sacrifice  —  to  mur 
der  my  son  on  the  field  of  battle? 

(He  pauses  and  looks  toivard  the  doorway, 
right.     DR.  JONATHAN  is  standing  there, 
holding  in   his  hand   a   yellow   envelope. 
ASHER  starts  forward.) 
A  telegram?     For  me? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Yes,  Asher. 

(After  giving  it  to  ASHER,  DR.  JONATHAN 
takes  his  stand  beside  MINNIE,  who  is  at 
the  back  of  the  room,  near  the  bench. 
He  lays  a  hand  on  her  arm.  ASHER  tears 
open  the  envelope  and  stares  at  the  tele 
gram,  his  hands  trembling.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  105 

ASHER     (exclaiming,    in    a    half    whisper). 
George ! 

AUGUSTA.     Oh  Asher,  not  —  not —  ! 

(She  reaches  for  the  telegram.     He  gives  it 

to  her.     She  reads.) 

"  Captain  George  Pindar  severely  wounded,  con 
dition  critical." 

TIMOTHY.     Please  God  he'll  be  spared  to  ye! 


CURTAIN. 


ACT  III 

SCENE:  Same  as  in  Act  I,  the  library  of  ASHER 
PINDAR'S  house. 

TIME:  The  following  day,  early  afternoon. 
A  storm  is  raging,  with  wind  and  rain  and  oc 
casional  bright  flashes  of  lightning  and  heavy 
peals  of  thunder.  ASHER  is  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room,  folding  and  unfolding  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  ivhen  AUGUSTA  enters, 
lower  right,  her  knitting  in  her  hand.  There 
is  a  Hash  and  a  peal  of  thunder. 

AUGUSTA.  Oh !  Asher,  did  you  know  that 
the  elm  at  the  end  of  the  Common  was  struck 
just  now?  —  that  splendid  old  landmark! 

ASHER.  All  the  old  landmarks  are  being 
struck  down,  one  after  another. 

AUGUSTA  (going  up  to  him  and  putting  her 
hand  on  his  arm).  I've  been  so  nervous  all  day. 
Do  be  careful  how  you  go  about  during  this 
106 


DR.  JONATHAN  107 

strike.  Those  sullen  and  angry  groups  of  men 
on  the  street  this  morning  — 

ASHER.  Oh,  they  wouldn't  dare  touch  me. 
If  we  only  had  a  state  constabulary  we'd  soon 
break  that  sort  of  thing  up.  But  the  Legislature 
trembles  whenever  a  labour  leader  opens  his 
mouth. 

AUGUSTA  (sitting  down  and  taking  up  her  knit 
ting).  If  only  I  could  be  of  some  help  to  you! 
But  it's  always  been  so. 

ASHER.     You've  been  a  good  wife,  Augusta! 

AUGUSTA.  I  don't  know.  I've  kept  your 
house,  I've  seen  that  you  were  well  fed,  but  I've 
been  thinking  lately  how  little  that  is  for  a  wo 
man  —  for  a  human  being. 

ASHER  (surprised).  Why,  Augusta!  I  can't 
remember  the  time  when  you  haven't  been  busy. 
You've  taken  an  active  part  in  church  work  and 
looked  out  for  the  people  of  the  village. 

AUGUSTA.  Yes,  and  what  has  it  all  amounted 
to  ?  The  poor  are  ungrateful,  they  won't  go  near 
the  church,  and  today  they're  buying  pianos. 
Soon  there  won't  be  any  poor  to  help. 

ASHER.  That's  so.  We'll  be  the  paupers,  if 
this  sort  of  thing  keeps  on. 

AUGUSTA.     I've  tried  to  do  my  duty  as  a  Chris- 


io8  DR.  JONATHAN 

tian  woman,  but  the  world  has  no  use,  appar 
ently,  for  Christians  in  these  times.  And  when 
ever  you  have  any  really  serious  trouble,  I  seem 
to  be  the  last  person  you  take  into  your  confi 
dence. 

ASHER.  I  don't  worry  you  with  business  mat 
ters. 

AUGUSTA.  Because  you  do  not  regard  me  as 
your  intellectual  equal. 

ASHER.  A  woman  has  her  sphere.  You  have 
always  filled  it  admirably. 

AUGUSTA.     "  Adorn  "  is  the  word,  I  believe. 

ASHER.  To  hear  you  talk,  one  would  think 
you'd  been  contaminated  by  Jonathan.  You,  of 
all  people ! 

AUGUSTA.  There  seems  to  be  no  place  for  a 
woman  like  me  in  these  days, —  I  don't  recog 
nize  the  world  I'm  living  in. 

ASHER.  You  didn't  sleep  a  wink  last  night, 
thinking  of  George. 

AUGUSTA.  I've  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  see 
ing  him  again  alive. 

(Enter  DR.  JONATHAN,  loiver  right.  His 
calmness  is  in  contrast  to  the  storm,  and 
to  the  mental  states  of  ASHER  and  ALN 
GUSTA.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  109 

Why,  Jonathan,  what  are  you  doing  out  in  this 
storm  ? 

DR.  JONATHAN.     I  came  to  see  you,  Augusta. 

AUGUSTA  (knitting,  trying  to  hide  her  per 
turbation  at  his  appearance).  Did  you?  You 
might  have  waited  until  the  worst  was  over. 
You  still  have  to  be  careful  of  your  health,  you 
know. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (sitting  down).  There  are 
other  things  more  important  than  my  health. 
No  later  news  about  George,  I  suppose. 

ASHER.  Yes.  I  got  another  telegram  early 
this  morning  saying  that  he  is  on  his  way  home 
on  a  transport. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     On  his  way  home ! 

ASHER.  If  he  lives  to  arrive.  I'll  show  you 
the  wire.  Apparently  they  can't  make  anything 
out  of  his  condition,  but  think  it's  shell  shock. 
This  storm  has  been  raging  along  the  coast  ever 
since  nine  o'clock,  the  wires  are  down,  but  I  did 
manage  to  telephone  to  New  York  and  get  hold 
of  Frye,  the  shell-shock  specialist.  In  case 
George  should  land  today,  he'll  meet  him. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Frye  is  a  good  man. 

ASHER.  George  is  hit  by  a  shell  and  almost 
killed  nearly  a  month  ago,  and  not  a  word  do  I 


no  DR.  JONATHAN 

hear  of  it  until  I  get  that  message  in  your  house 
yesterday!  Then  comes  this  other  telegram  this 
morning.  What's  to  be  said  about  a  government 
capable  of  such  inefficiency?  Of  course  the 
chances  of  his  landing  today  are  small,  but  I 
can't  leave  for  New  York  until  tonight  because 
that  same  government  sends  a  labour  investigator 
here  to  pry  into  my  affairs,  and  make  a  prelimi 
nary  report.  They're  going  to  decide  whether  or 
not  I  shall  keep  my  property  or  hand  it  over  to 
them!  And  whom  do  they  send?  Not  a  busi 
ness  man,  who's  had  practical  experience  with 
labour,  but  a  professor  out  of  some  university, 
—  a  theorist ! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Awkward  people,  these  pro 
fessors.  But  what  would  you  do  about  it, 
Asher?  Wall  up  the  universities? 

ASHER.  Their  trustees,  who  are  business  men, 
should  forbid  professors  meddling  in  govern 
ment  and  politics.  This  fellow  had  the  impu 
dence  to  tell  me  to  my  face  that  my  own  work 
men,  whom  I  am  paying,  aren't  working  for  me. 
I'm  only  supposed  to  be  supplying  the  capital. 
We  talk  about  Germany  being  an  autocracy  — 
it's  nothing  to  what  this  country  has  become  ! 

DR.  JONATHAN    (smiling).     An  autocracy  of 


DR.  JONATHAN  in 

professors  instead  of  business  men.     Well,  every 
dog  has  his  day.     And  George  is  coming  home. 

ASHER.  And  what  is  there  left  to  hand  over 
to  him  if  he  lives?  What  future  has  the  Pindar 
Shops, —  which  I  have  spent  my  life  to  build 
up? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  If  George  lives,  as  we  hope, 
you  need  not  worry  about  the  future  of  the  Pin 
dar  Shops,  I  think. 

AUGUSTA.     If  God  will  only  spare  him! 

ASHER.  I  guess  I've  about  got  to  the  point 
where  I  don't  believe  that  a  God  exists. 

(A  Hash  and  a  loud  peal  of  thunder.) 

AUGUSTA.     Asher ! 

ASHER.     Then  let  Him  strike  me ! 

(He  hurries  abruptly  out  of  the  door,  left.) 

AUGUSTA  (after  a  silence).  During  all  the 
years  of  our  married  life,  he  has  never  said  such 
a  thing  as  that.  Asher  an  atheist ! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  So  was  Job,  Augusta, —  for 
a  while. 

AUGUSTA  (avoiding  DR.  JONATHAN'S  glance, 
and  beginning  to  knit).  You  wanted  to  speak 
to  me,  Jonathan? 

(The  MAID  enters,  lower  right.) 

MAID.    Timothy  Farrell,  ma'am, 


ii2  DR.  JONATHAN 

(Exit  maid,  enter  TIMOTHY  FARRELL.) 

AUGUSTA.  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Pindar  can't  see 
you  just  now,  Timothy. 

TIMOTHY.  It's  you  I've  come  to  see,  ma'am, 
if  you'll  bear  with  me, —  who  once  took  an  in 
terest  in  Minnie. 

AUGUSTA.  It  is  true  that  I  once  took  an  in 
terest  in  her,  Timothy,  but  I'm  afraid  I  have  lost 
it.  I  dislike  to  say  this  to  you,  her  father,  but 
it's  so. 

TIMOTHY.  Don't  be  hard  on  her,  Mrs.  Pindar. 
She  may  have  been  wild-like  in  Newcastle,  but 
since  she  was  back  here  to  work  for  the  doctor 
she's  been  a  good  girl,  and  that  happy  I  wouldn't 
know  her,  and  a  comfort  to  me  in  me  old  age, 
—  what  with  Bert  gone,  and  Jamesy  taken  to 
drink!  And  now  she's  run  away  and  left  me 
alone  entirely,  with  the  shops  closed,  and  no  work 
to  do. 

AUGUSTA  (knitting).     She's  left  Foxon  Falls? 

TIMOTHY  (breaking  down  for  a  moment). 
When  I  woke  up  this  morning  I  found  a  letter 
beside  me  bed  —  I'm  not  to  worry,  she  says  — 
and  I  know  how  fond  of  me  she  was  —  be  the 
care  she  took  of  me.  She's  been  keeping  com 
pany  with  no  young  man  —  that  I  know.  If  she 


DR.  JONATHAN  113 

wasn't  working  with  the  doctor  on  that  discovery 
she'd  be  home  with  me. 

AUGUSTA.  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Timothy, — 
but  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do. 

TIMOTHY.  I  minded  that  you  were  talking 
to  her  yesterday  in  the  lab'rat'ry,  before  the  tele 
gram  came  about  Mr.  George. 

AUGUSTA.     Well? 

TIMOTHY.  It  was  just  a  hope,  ma'am, — 
catching  at  a  straw  —  like. 

AUGUSTA  (tightening  her  lips).  I  repeat  that 
I'm  sorry  for  you,  Timothy.  I  have  no  idea 
where  she  has  gone. 

TIMOTHY  (looking  at  her  fixedly.  She  pauses 
in  her  knitting  and  returns  his  look).  Very  well, 
ma'am  —  there's  no  need  of  my  bothering  you. 
You've  heard  nothing  more  of  Mr.  George? 

AUGUSTA  (with  sudden  tears).  They're  send 
ing  him  home. 

TIMOTHY.  And  now  that  ye're  getting  him 
back,  ma'am,  ye  might  think  with  a  little  more 
charity  of  her  that  belongs  to  me  —  the  only  one 
I'd  have  left. 

(TIMOTHY  goes  out,  lower  right.  AUGUSTA 
is  blinded  by  tears.  She  lets  fall  her  ball 
of  wool.  DR.  JONATHAN  picks  it  up.) 


H4  DR.  JONATHAN 

AUGUSTA.  I  try  to  be  fair  in  my  judgments, 
and  true  to  my  convictions,  but  what  Minnie  has 
done  cannot  be  condoned. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (sitting  down  beside  AU 
GUSTA).  And  what  has  Minnie  done,  Au 
gusta? 

AUGUSTA.  You  ask  me  that?  I  try  hard  to 
give  you  credit,  Jonathan,  for  not  knowing  the 
ways  of  the  world  —  but  it's  always  been  difficult 
to  believe  that  Minnie  Farrell  had  become  — 
well  —  a  bad  woman. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  A  bad  woman.  I  gather, 
then,  that  you  don't  believe  in  the  Christian  doc 
trines  of  repentance  and  regeneration. 

AUGUSTA  (bridling).  The  leopard  doesn't 
change  his  spots.  And  has  she  shown  any  sign 
of  repentance?  Has  she  come  to  me  and  asked 
my  pardon  for  the  way  in  which  she  treated  me  ? 
Has  she  gone  to  church  and  asked  God's  for 
giveness  ?  But  I  know  you  are  an  agnostic,  Jona 
than, —  it  grieves  me.  I  couldn't  expect  you  to 
see  the  necessity  of  that. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Minnie, 
I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to  achieve  a  discovery 
that  may  prove  of  value  to  our  suffering  sol 
diers,  as  well  as  to  injured  operatives  in  factories. 


DR.  JONATHAN  115 

In  spite  of  the  news  of  her  brother's  death,  Min 
nie  worked  all  afternoon  and  evening.  It  was 
midnight  when  we  made  the  successful  test, 
after  eight  months  of  experiment. 

AUGUSTA.  I  hope  the  discovery  may  be  valu 
able.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  too  much  sci 
ence  in  these  days  and  too  little  religion.  I've 
never  denied  that  the  girl  is  clever. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  you  would  deny  her  the 
opportunity  to  make  something  of  her  cleverness 
because  in  your  opinion  she  has  broken  the 
Seventh  Commandment.  Is  that  it? 

AUGUSTA.  I  can't  listen  to  you  when  you 
talk  in  this  way. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  you  listen  every  Sun 
day  to  Moses  —  if  it  was  Moses  ?  —  when  he 
talks  in  this  way.  You  have  made  up  your 
mind,  haven't  you,  that  Minnie  has  broken  the 
Commandment  ? 

AUGUSTA.     I'm  not  a  fool,  Jonathan. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  You  are  what  is  called  a 
good  woman.  Have  you  proof  that  Minnie  is 
what  you  would  call  a  bad  one? 

AUGUSTA.  Has  she  ever  denied  it?  And  you 
heard  her  when  she  stood  up  in  this  room  and 
spoke  of  her  life  in  Newcastle. 


ii6  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  JONATHAN.  But  no  court  of  law  would 
convict  her  on  that. 

AUGUSTA.  And  she  had  an  affair  with 
George.  Oh,  I  can't  talk  about  it ! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I'm  afraid  that  George  will 
wish  to  talk  about  it,  when  he  comes  back. 

AUGUSTA.  She's  been  corresponding  with 
George  —  scheming  behind  my  back. 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Are  you  sure  of  that? 

AUGUSTA.  She  confessed  to  me  that  she  had 
had  letters  from  him. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  that  she'd  written  let 
ters  in  return? 

AUGUSTA.  What  right  have  you  to  catechize 
me,  Jonathan? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  The  same  right,  Augusta, 
that  you  have  to  catechize  Minnie.  Only  I  wish 
to  discover  the  truth,  and  apparently  you  do 
not.  She  left  me  a  letter,  too,  in  which  she 
said,  "  Don't  try  to  find  me  —  I  wouldn't  come 
back  if  you  did.  Mrs.  Pindar  was  right  about 
me,  after  all  —  I  had  to  break  loose  again." 
Now,  Augusta,  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  make 
of  that? 

AUGUSTA.     It's  pretty  plain,  isn't  it? 

DR.    JONATHAN.     If    the    girl     were     really 


DR.  JONATHAN  117 

"  bad,"  as  you  insist,  would  she  say  a  thing  like 
that? 

AUGUSTA.  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  an  authority  on 
Minnie's  kind. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Well,  I  am.  The  only  mo 
tive  which  could  have  induced  her  to  leave  my 
laboratory  and  Foxon  Falls  —  her  father  —  is 
what  you  would  call  a  Christian  motive. 

AUGUSTA.     What  do  you  mean? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  An  unselfish  motive.  She 
went  because  she  thought  she  could  help  some 
one  by  going. 

AUGUSTA.  Why  —  do  you  discuss  this  with 
me? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Because  I've  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  you  know  something  about  Min 
nie's  departure,  Augusta. 

AUGUSTA  (again  on  the  verge  of  tears). 
Well,  then,  I  do.  I  am  responsible  for  her  go 
ing  —  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it.  Her  remaining 
here  was  an  affront  to  all  right  thinking  people. 
I  appealed  to  her,  and  she  had  the  decency  to 
leave. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Decency  is  a  mild  word  to 
apply  to  her  sacrifice. 

AUGUSTA.     I  suppose,  with  your  extraordinary 


ii8  DR.  JONATHAN 

radical  views,  you  mean  that  she  might  have  re 
mained  here  and  married  George.  One  never 
can  predict  the  harm  that  a  woman  of  that  kind 
can  do. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (rising).  The  harm  that  a 
bad  woman  can  do,  Augusta,  is  sometimes  ex 
ceeded  only  by  the  harm  a  good  woman  can  do. 
You  are  unfortunately  steeped  in  a  religion 
which  lacks  the  faith  in  humanity  that  should  be 
its  foundation.  The  girl  has  just  given  you  the 
strongest  proof  of  an  inherent  goodness,  and 
you  choose  to  call  her  bad.  But  if  you  will 
not  listen  to  Moses  and  the  prophets,  how  will 
you  listen  to  Christ? 

AUGUSTA.  Jonathan !  Where  are  you  go 
ing? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  To  find  Minnie  Farrell  and 
bring  her  back  to  Foxon  Falls. 

(He  goes  out,  lower  right.  AUGUSTA  sits  for 
a  while,  motionless,  and  then  makes  an  at- 
tempt  to  go  on  with  her  knitting.  A  man's 
face  is  seen  pressed  against  the  glass  of 
the  middle  window.  AUGUSTA  does  not 
perceive  him.  He  disappears,  the  glass 
door,  upper  right,  opens  slowly  and  PRAG 
enters.  His  clothes  are  wet,  he  is  iin- 


DR.  JONATHAN  119 

shaven,  he  is  gaunt  and  ill,  and  his  eyed 
gleam.  He  leaves  the  door  open  behind 
him.  Once  inside  the  room,  he  halts  and 
stares  at  AUGUSTA,  who  gathers  up  her 
knitting  and  rises.  She  does  not  lack 
courage.) 

AUGUSTA.     What  do  you  want? 
PRAG.     I  come  to  see  Mr.  Pindar. 
AUGUSTA.     The  proper  place  to  see  Mr.  Pin 
dar  is  in  his  office.     What  do  you  mean  by  forc 
ing  your  way  into  this  house? 

PRAG  (advancing).  I  have  no  right  here  — 
it  is  too  fine  for  me,  yes? 

(Through  the  window  the  figure  of  a  woman 
is  seen  running  across  the  lawn,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  MINNIE  FARRELL  comes  in 
through  the  open  doorway,  upper  right. 
She  is  breathless  and  somewhat  wet.) 
AUGUSTA.  Minnie ! 

PRAG     (turning    and    confronting    MINNIE). 
So  !     You  come  back  to  Foxon  Falls,  too ! 
MINNIE.     You   guessed   it. 
PRAG.     You  follow  me? 

MINNIE.  But  you're  some  sprinter!  (She 
seizes  him  by  the  arm.)  Come  on,  Prag, —  you 
haven't  got  any  business  here,  and  you  know  it. 


120  DR.  JONATHAN 

PRAG  (stubbornly).  I  come  to  see  Mr.  Pin 
dar.  I  vill  see  him ! 

AUGUSTA.     He  isn't  home. 
PRAG.     Then  I  vait  for  him. 
MINNIE    (glancing    toward    the    study    door, 
where  she  suspects  ASHER  is).     No  you  don't, 
either!     You  come  along  with  me. 

(She  pulls  him,  and  he  resists.     They  be 
gin  to  struggle.     AUGUSTA  cries  out  and 
runs  to  MINNIE'S  assistance.) 
Keep   away,    Mrs.    Pindar.     If    Mr.    Pindar's 
home,  find  him  and  tell  him  not  to  come  in  here. 
This  man's  crazy. 

PRAG  (struggling  with  MINNIE).  Crazy,  is 
it?  What  is  it  to  you  —  what  I  do  with  Mr. 
Pindar.  He  is  also  your  enemy  —  the  enemy  of 
all  work-peoples. 

AUGUSTA,  after  a  second's  indecision,  turns 
and  runs  toward  the  door,  left,  that  leads 
into  ASHER'S  study.  MINNIE  tries  to 
push  PRAG  toward  the  doorway,  upper 
right,  but  she  is  no  match  for  the  nervous 
strength  he  is  able  to  summon  up  in 
his  fanatical  frenzy.  Just  as  AUGUSTA 
reaches  the  study  door,  it  is  flung  open  and 
ASHER  appears.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  121 

ASHER.  What's  the  matter?  (Then  he  sees 
MINNIE  and  PRAG  struggling  and  strides  to 
ward  them.  AUGUSTA  tries  to  prevent  him 
reaching  them.  PRAG  wrenches  himself  free 
from  MINNIE  and  draws  a  pistol  from  his  pocket. 
MINNIE  flings  herself  between  him  and  ASHER, 
who  momentarily  halts,  too  astonished  to 
act.) 

PRAG  (to  MINNIE).     Get  avay!     He  kill  my 

wife,  he  drive  me  out  of  my  home  —  he  will 

not  have  the  unions.     I  shoot  him!     Get  oudt! 

ASHER.     Stand  aside,  Minnie,  I'll  take  care  of 

him. 

(AUGUSTA  cries  out.  ASHER  advances, 
seizes  MINNIE  by  the  shoulder  and  thrusts 
her  aside.  PRAG  has  the  pistol  levelled 
at  him.) 

PRAG.     Recognize  the  unions,  or  I  shoot! 
ASHER.     Lower   that   pistol!     Do    you   think 
you  can  intimidate  me? 

PRAG.     They  can  hang  me, —  I  die  for  free 
doms  ! 

(He  is  apparently  about  to  pull  the  trigger, 
but  he  does  not.  His  eyes  are  drawn\ 
away  from  ASHER,  toward  the  doorway, 
lower  right,  zvhere  DR.  JONATHAN  is  seen 


122  DR.  JONATHAN 

standing,  gazing  at  him.  Gradually  his 
arm  drops  to  his  side,  and  DR.  JONATHAN 
goes  up  to  him  and  takes  the  pistol  from 
his  hand.  PRAG  breaks  down,  sobbing 
violently.) 
It  is  no  good!  I  can't  —  now. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (his  hand  on  PRAG'S  shoulder). 
Come  with  me,  Prag,  to  my  house. 

(He  leads  PRAG,  shaken  by  sobs,  out  of  the 
doorway,  upper  right,  and  they  are  seen 
through   the  windows  crossing  the  lawn 
and  disappearing.) 
AUGUSTA.     Oh,  Asher ! 

(She  goes  up  to  him  and  puts  her  hand  on 

his  arm,  and  then  turns  to  MINNIE.) 
You  saved  him! 

MINNIE.  Dr.  Jonathan  saved  him.  He'd 
save  everybody,  if  they'd  let  him.  Ever  since  he 
took  care  of  Prag's  wife,  when  she  died,  he's  got 
him  hypnotized. 

ASHER.  You've  done  a  brave  thing,  Minnie. 
I  shan't  forget  it. 

MINNIE.  I  want  you  to  forget  it.  I 
wouldn't  like  to  see  anybody  hurt. 

AUGUSTA.  But  —  how  did  you  happen  to  be 
here  —  in  Foxon  Falls? 


DR.  JONATHAN  123 

MINNIE.  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  to  come  back. 
I'm  going  away  again. 

AUGUSTA.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  to  go 
away,  now. 

ASHER.  What's  this?  Did  you  ask  Minnie 
to  leave  Foxon  Falls? 

AUGUSTA.  Asher,  I'd  like  to  talk  with  Min 
nie,  if  you  don't  mind. 

ASHER   (glancing  at  the  tivo  women).     Well, 
I  shan't  forget  what  you've  done,  Minnie. 
(He  goes  out,  lower  right.) 

MINNIE  (who  is  on  the  verge  of  losing  her 
self-control).  I  didn't  come  back  to  Foxon 
Falls  to  talk  to  you  again,  Mrs.  Pindar.  I'm 
sorry,  but  I've  got  to  go. 

AUGUSTA.     Where  ? 

MINNIE.  You  didn't  care  yesterday  —  why 
should  you  care  today? 

AUGUSTA  (with  an  effort).  I  ought  to  tell 
you  that  Dr.  Pindar  has  declined  Mr.  Pindar's 
offer. 

MINNIE.  He  isn't  going  to  take  charge  of 
the  hospital? 

AUGUSTA.     No. 

MINNIE.  But  if  he's  so  poor,  how's  he  going 
to  live?  He  can't  afford  to  hire  me  to  help  him. 


124  DR.  JONATHAN 

AUGUSTA.  I  don't  know.  Dr.  Pindar  was 
about  to  leave  in  search  of  you. 

MINNIE.  I  was  afraid  of  that  —  when  he 
ought  to  be  going  to  New  York  to  test  the 
discovery  at  the  hospitals  there.  He  meant 
to. 

AUGUSTA.     You  must  see  him. 

MINNIE.  Oh,  I'll  see  him  now.  That  was 
what  hurt  me  most,  lying  to  him  about  why  I 
was  leaving  —  letting  him  think  I  was  sick  of 
working  with  him. 

AUGUSTA.  Minnie,  I'm  willing  to  say  that  I 
was  mistaken  about  you.  You  may  have  been 
unwise,  but  you  never  did  anything  wrong. 
Isn't  it  so  ? 

MINNIE.  Why  do  you  think  that  now? 
What  changed  you  ?  Just  because  I  might  have 
helped  to  keep  Mr.  Pindar  from  being  shot 
by  a  crazy  man  —  that  didn't  change  you,  did 
it? 

AUGUSTA.     I  was  mistaken  — 

MINNIE.  If  you  thought  I  was  bad  yester 
day,  I'm  bad  today. 

AUGUSTA.  A  bad  woman  couldn't  have  done 
what  you  did  just  now. 

MINNIE.     Don't  you  believe  it,  Mrs.  Pindar. 


DR.  JONATHAN  125 

I  knew  a  woman  in  Newcastle  —  but  there's  no 
use  going  into  that,  I  guess.  There's  worse 
kinds  of  badness  than  what  you  call  bad. 

AUGUSTA.  I  —  I  can't  discuss  it.  But  I 
want  to  be  just.  I'm  convinced  that  I  did  you  a 
wrong  —  and  I'm  sorry.  Won't  you  believe 
me? 

MINNIE.  But  you'll  never  forgive  me  —  even 
if  I  hadn't  done  what  you  thought — on  account 
of  what  happened  with  George. 

AUGUSTA.     I  —  I'll  try. 

MINNIE.  No,  don't  try — forgiveness  doesn't 
come  that  way,  Mrs.  Pindar.  (With  sudden 
acuteness.)  It  was  on  account  of  George,  not 
Dr.  Jonathan,  that  you  wanted  to  get  me  out  of 
Foxon  Falls. 

AUGUSTA.  I  repeat  —  I  shouldn't  have  asked 
you  to  go.  Isn't  that  enough? 

MINNIE.  I  told  you  not  to  worry  about  me 
and  George.  I  ran  away  from  him  once  —  I 
guess  I  won't  have  to  do  it  again. 

AUGUSTA.     You  —  you  ran  away  from  him? 

MINNIE.  From  the  church,  too,  and  from  the 
Bible  class  and  from  you,  and  from  the  shops. 
But  I'm  free  now,  there  isn't  any  danger  of  my 
going  wrong, —  I  know  what  I  can  do,  I've 


126  DR.  JONATHAN 

learned  my  job  — Dr.  Jonathan's  taught  me. 
You  needn't  have  me  on  your  conscience,  either. 
I'll  go  across  and  see  if  I  can  help  Dr.  Jonathan 
take  care  of  that  poor  wreck,  Prag.  Life's  been 
too  tough  for  him ! 

AUGUSTA  (starting  fonvard  to  detain  her). 
Wait  a  moment,  Minnie, —  tell  me  how  you  hap 
pened  to  come  back,  to  be  here  so  —  providen 
tially. 

MINNIE.  There  wasn't  anything  providential 
about  it.  I  took  the  six  o'clock  train  to  New 
castle  this  morning.  Not  that  I  had  any  notion 
of  staying  there.  I  ran  into  Prag  at  the  station. 
I  nursed  his  wife,  you  know  —  and  he  started  in 
to  tell  me  how  he  was  coming  up  to  Foxon  Falls 
to  shoot  Mr.  Pindar  because  he'd  closed  down 
the  works  rather  than  recognize  the  union.  I 
knew  that  Prag  was  just  about  crazy  enough  to 
do  it,  because  I've  heard  Dr.  Jonathan  talk- 
about  the  mental  disease  he's  got.  That  was 
about  ten,  and  the  train  for  Foxon  Falls  was 
leaving  in  a  few  minutes.  I  ran  into  the  booth 
to  'phone  Dr.  Jonathan,  but  the  storm  had  begun 
down  there,  and  I  couldn't  get  a  connection. 
So  I  caught  the  train,  and  when  it  pulled  in  here 
I  saw  Prag  jump  out  of  the  smoking  car  and 


DR.  JONATHAN  127 

start  to  run.  I  couldn't  run  as  fast  as  he  could, 
and  I'd  only  got  to  the  other  side  of  the  Com 
mon  when  I  saw  him  walk  into  the  house. 

AUGUSTA  (after  a  pause).  Minnie,  you'll 
stay  here  now  ?  Your  father  needs  you  —  I  —  I 
should  never  forgive  myself  if  you  left. 

MINNIE.  Tell  me,  Mrs.  Pindar, —  have  you 
heard  anything  more  from  George? 

AUGUSTA  (hesitating).  Yes  —  Mr.  Pindar 
got  a  telegram  this  morning. 

MINNIE.  He's  coming  home!  When  will  he 
get  here? 

AUGUSTA.  I  don't  know.  Oh,  I'm  afraid  he 
may  never  get  here  —  alive. 

MINNIE.     Don't  say  that!     George   will   live 
—  he's  got  to  live. 

AUGUSTA  (gazing,  at  her).  What  makes  you 
think  so? 

MINNIE.  Because  he's  needed  so  in  the  world 
—  in  Foxon  Falls. 

(She  starts  for  the  doorway,  upper  right.) 

AUGUSTA.     You're  not  going? 

MINNIE.     I  couldn't  stay  here  —  now. 

AUGUSTA.     Why  —  why  not  ? 

MINNIE  (in  tears).  I  should  think  you'd 
know  why  not! 


128  DR.  JONATHAN 

AUGUSTA.  You  mean  —  you  care  —  you  care 
that  much  ? 

MINNIE.     I'm  going. 

(She  turns  to  leave  the  room  when  the  sound 
of  an  automobile  is  heard  without,  the 
brakes  going  on,  etc.  MINNIE,  who  has 
got  as  far  as  the  doorway,  upper  right,, 
halts  and  stares.) 

AUGUSTA  (excitedly).     What  is  it? 
MINNIE.     An  automobile.     Oh,   Mrs.   Pindar 
—  it's  him  —  it's  George  ! 

(She  draws  back  from  the   doorway,   her 

hands   clasped.) 

AUGUSTA.  George  !  (She  hurries  toivard  the 
doorway,  speaking  as  she  goes.)  Where  is  he? 
Why  doesn't  he  come  in? 

MINNIE  (staring  out).  He  can't.  Oh,  I'll 
get  Dr.  Jonathan ! 

(She  is  speaking  as  AUGUSTA  goes  out.) 
(Mingling  with  other  voices,  ASHER'S  res 
onant  and  commanding  voice  is  heard.) 
ASHER  (without).     Bring  him  in  through  the 
library  —  it's  easier  for  you,  George. 

(MINNIE  who  obviously  cannot  now  escape 
through  the  doorway,  upper  right,  without 
GEORGE  seeing  her,  after  a  second's  ir- 


DR.  JONATHAN  129 

resolution  dashes  across  the  room  and  out 
of  the  door,  lower  right.  A  moment  later 
GEORGE  is  brought  in  through  the  door 
way,  upper  right,  leaning  heavily  on  DR. 
FRYE,  a  capable  looking  man,  whose  well 
fitting  business  suit  and  general  appear 
ance  indicate  a  prosperous  city  practice. 
GEORGE  is  in  uniform.  He  is  much  thin 
ner,  and  his  face  betrays  acute  suffer 
ing.  His  left  arm  hangs  helpless  at  his 
side. 

(  ASHER  and  AUGUSTA  follow,  ASHER  with 
a  look  of  pain  which  has  been  increased 
by  an  incident  which  occurred  at  the  auto 
mobile,  where  GEORGE  refused  to  allow 
ASHER  to  help  support  him.) 
(GEORGE  gets  a  little  way  into  the  room  when 
he  stops,  sways  a  little,  and  spasmodically 
puts  his  hand  to  his  heart.  ASHER,  in  a 
frenzy  of  anxiety,  again  approaches  to 
help  him,  but  GEORGE  repulses  him.) 
GEORGE  (protesting  with  what  strength  he  has, 

as  if  in  fear) .     N-no,  dad,  I'd  rather  not  —  I  — 

I  can  get  along. 

(  ASHER  halts  and  gazes  at  him  mutely,  and 
then  looks  at  AUGUSTA.) 


130  DR.  JONATHAN 

DR.  FRYE.  You'd  better  sit  down  here  a  min 
ute  and  rest,  Captain  Pindar. 

(ASHER  starts  to  pull  up  an  armchair,  but 
AUGUSTA   looks  at   him   and  shakes  her 
head,   and   pulls   it   up    herself.     GEORGE 
sinks  into  the  chair,  leans  back  his  head 
and  closes  his  eyes.     AUGUSTA  hovers  over 
him,  smoothing  his  hair.) 
AUGUSTA.     Is  there  nothing  we  can  do,   Dr. 
Frye  ?     A    little   brandy  —  ?  - 

DR.  FRYE  (who  is  evidently  trying  to  hide 
his  own  concern  by  a  show  of  professional  self- 
confidence).  I  think  I'd  wait  a  few  moments. 

GEORGE  (murmuring).  I  —  I'll  be  all  right, 
mother  — 

(DR.  FRYE  stands  gazing  doivn  at  him  a  few 
seconds  and  then  comes  forward  into  the 
room  to  join  ASHER.) 

ASHER.  For  God's  sake  tell  me  what  it  is, 
doctor!  Why  did  you  leave  New  York  with 
him  when  he  was  in  this  condition?  Was  it  be 
cause  ?  — 

DR.  FRYE  (speaking  more  rapidly  than  is  his 
wont).  He  was  surprisingly  well,  considering 
everything,  when  we  left  New  York,  and  the 
army  medical  men  advised  taking  him  home.  I 


DR.  JONATHAN  131 

thought  an  automobile  better  than  a  slow  train. 
I  tried  to  telephone  you,  but  the  storm  — 

ASHER.     I  know. 

DR.  FRYE.     I  sent  you  a  wire. 

ASHER.     I  didn't  get  it. 

DR.  FRYE.  It  was  impossible  to  get  a  good 
nurse  on  account  of  the  influenza  epidemic.  In 
fact,  I  didn't  think  he  needed  one  —  but  I  thought 
you'd  feel  more  comfortable  if  I  came.  He 
seemed  extraordinary  well,  even  cheerful  — 
until  we  got  right  into  Foxon  Falls.  We  were 
passing  your  shops,  and  a  big  crowd  of  men 
were  there,  making  a  noise,  shouting  at  a 
speaker.  Is  there  a  strike  on  here? 

ASHER.  Yes.  You  say  he  got  like  this  when 
he  saw  the  crowd  ? 

DR.  FRYE  (indicating  GEORGE).  As  you  see. 
He  fell  back  on  the  cushions  as  though  he'd  been 
hit  —  it  all  happened  in  a  second.  I  have  the 
history  of  the  case  from  the  army  people  — -  he 
had  an  attack  something  like  this  abroad. 

ASHER.     Did  you  notice  how  he  avoided  me? 

DR.  FRYE  (with  reluctance).  That  may  not 
be  anything.  It's  his  heart,  at  present, —  and 
yet  I'm  convinced  that  this  is  a  case  for  a  psy 
chologist  as  well  as  for  a  medical  man.  I  con- 


132  DR.  JONATHAN 

fess  I'm  puzzled,  and  as  soon  as  we  can  get  a 
connection  with  New  York  I  want  to  summon 
Barnwell. 

ASHER.     I'll  see  if  I  can  get  a  wire  through. 
DR.  FRYE.     Telephone  Plaza  4632. 

( ASHER  hurries  out,  lower  right.     DR.  FRYE 
returns  to  GEORGE  to  take  his  pulse  when 
DR.  JONATHAN  enters,  upper  right.     He 
crosses  the  room  directly  to  GEORGE  and 
stands  looking  doum  at  him.) 
AUGUSTA    (who   is   a   little   behind   GEORGE'S 
chair,  gives  DR.  JONATHAN  an  agonized  glance, 
ivhich  she  transfers  to  DR.  FRYE  when  he  drops 
GEORGE'S  wrist).     George!     George,   dear! 

(DR.  FRYE  is  silent     Then  ASHER  r 'centers.) 
ASHER  (in  a  loiv  tone,  to  DR.  FRYE).     They 
think  they  can  get   New   York  within   half   an 
hour. 

(DR.  FRYE  nods.  His  attention  is  now  fixed 
upon  DR.  JONATHAN,  whose  gaze  is  still 
focusscd  on  GEORGE.  ASHER  and  AU 
GUSTA  now  begin  to  look  at  DR.  JONA 
THAN.  Gradually,  as  though  by  the  com 
pulsion  of  DR.  JONATHAN'S  regard, 
GEORGE  slowly  opens  his  eyes.) 
GEORGE  (stammering).  Dr.  Jonathan! 


DR.  JONATHAN  133 

DR.  JONATHAN.     I'm  here,  George. 

GEORGE.  Is  there  —  is  there  a  strike  in  the 
shops  ? 

(DR.  JONATHAN  glances  at  ASHER.) 

ASHER  (hesitating,  speaking  with  difficulty). 
Don't  worry  about  that  now,  George. 

GEORGE.     Why  —  why  are  they  striking  ? 

ASHER.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  later  —  when 
you  feel  better. 

GEORGE  (feebly,  yet  insistent).  I  —  I  want 
to  know. 

ASHER.     We  can't  talk  about  it  now,  my  boy 
-  later. 

GEORGE.  Did  —  did  you  get  my  letter  —  the 
letter  in  which  I  begged  you  — 

ASHER.  Yes,  yes  —  I'll  explain  it  all  tomor 
row. 

GEORGE.  I  —  I  may  not  be  here  —  tomorrow. 
You  didn't  do  what  —  I  asked?  It's  —  so  sim 
ple  —  when  you've  thought  about  it  —  when 
you've  fought  for  it. 

ASHER.  I  —  I  had  a  plan,  George.  We'll  go 
over  it  — 

(He  approaches  GEORGE.) 

GEORGE  (shrinking) .     No  —  no ! 

( ASHER  recoils.     MINNIE  FARRELL  appears, 


134  DR.  JONATHAN 

upper  right,  from  the  direction  of  the 
Common.  She  carries  a  phial,  a  dropper 
and  some  water  in  a  glass.  Seeing  the 
group  gathered  about  GEORGE,  she  hesi 
tates,  but  DR.  JONATHAN  motions  her  to 
come  forward.) 
W-who  is  that?  Minnie? 

(GEORGE  makes  an  attempt  to  sit  up,  but  his 
head  falls  back  and  his  eyes  close  again. 
Then  DR.  JONATHAN  lays  his  hand  on 
DR.  FRYE'S  arm,  as  though  to  draw  him 
aside. ) 

DR.  FRYE.  Is  this  Dr.  Jonathan  Pindar? 
I  wondered  if  you  were  a  relation —  (he  glances 
at  ASHER) — but  I  wasn't  looking  for  you  in 
Foxon  Falls.  If  you  have  something  to  sug 
gest—?— 

DR.  JONATHAN  (taking  the  phial  and  the 
dropper  from  MINNIE).  With  your  permission. 
In  any  case  it  can  do  no  harm. 

DR.  FRYE.  By  all  means.  If  I  had  realized 
you  were  here  — !  — 

( ASHER  looks  on  in  astonishment.  DR. 
JONATHAN  measures  out  a  few  drops  of 
the  liquid  from  the  phial  into  the  glass  of 
water,  which  MINNIE  holds.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  135 

DR.  JONATHAN.     George,  will  you  take  this  ? 
(He  holds  the  glass  while  GEORGE  drinks. 

To  DR.  FRYE:) 

There's    a    lounge    in    Mr.    Pindar's    study. 
(To  AUGUSTA:)     Get  a  blanket. 

(AUGUSTA    goes    toward    the    door,    loiver 

right,  while  MINNIE  starts  to  retire.) 
We'll  need  you,  Minnie. 

(He  hands  MINNIE  the  glass,  dropper  and 
phial.  The  two  physicians  pick  GEORGE 
up  and  carry  him  out,  left,  followed  by 
MINNIE.  ASHER  goes  a  little  way  and 
then  halts  with  a  despairing  gesture. 
AUGUSTA  having  gone  for  the  blanket, 
ASHER  is  left  alone,  pacing,  until  she  re 
turns.  ) 

AUGUSTA  (going  through  the  room  from  right 
to  left,  ^vith  the  blanket).     Ah,  Asher! 

(  ASHER  begins  pacing  again,  when  DR.  FRYE 

r centers  from  the  left.) 
ASHER.     Is  there  —  is  there  any  hope? 
DR.  FRYE   (his  hand  on  ASHER'S  sleeve).     I 
can  tell  you  more  when  I  have  had  a  chance  to 
talk  with  Dr.  Pindar.     This  seems  to  be  one  of 
his    cases  —  but   I    confess,    when    I    mentioned 
Barnwell,  I  didn't  think  of  him.     The  situation 


136  DR.  JONATHAN 

came  so  suddenly.  And  in  spite  of  his  name 
being  yours,  I  didn't  expect  to  find  him  here. 

ASHER.     Then  you  know  of  Jonathan? 

DR.  FRYE.  I  didn't  know  of  him  until  I  read 
the  book  which  he  published  about  a  year  ago. 
When  I  was  in  Baltimore  in  March,  I  asked  for 
him  at  Johns  Hopkins's,  and  they  told  me  that  he 
had  gone  to  New  England  for  his  health.  Ex 
traordinary  to  meet  him  here  —  and  today ! 

ASHER.  What  book?  He's  never  spoken  to 
me  of  any  book. 

DR.  FRYE.  On  the  Physical  Effects  of  Men 
tal  Crises.  There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  con 
troversy  about  it  in  the  profession,  but  I'm  one 
of  those  who  believe  that  the  physician  must  seek 
to  cure,  not  only  the  body,  but  the  soul.  We 
make  a  guess  —  though  he's  published  no  ac- 
ligion  —  the  true  scientist  is  the  minister  of  the 
future. 

ASHER.     I  never  realized  that  Jonathan  — !  - 

DR.  FRYE  (smiling  a  little).  No  prophet  is 
without  honour  save  in  his  own  country. 

ASHER.     What  has  he  given  George? 

DR.  FRYE.  I  can't  tell  you  exactly,  but  I  can 
make  a  guess  —  though  he's  published  no  ac 
count  of  his  recent  experiments. 


DR.  JONATHAN  137 

(As    DR.    JONATHAN    reenters    from    the 

left.) 

He  will  undoubtedly  tell  you  himself. 
(Exit  DR.  FRYE,  left.) 

ASHER.     Will  he  live? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I'll  be  frank  with  you,  Asher, 
—  I  don't  know.  All  we  can  do  is  to  wait. 

ASHER.  I  call  God  to  witness  there's  nothing 
I  wouldn't  do,  no  sacrifice  I  wouldn't  make,  if 
that  boy  could  be  saved! 

DR.  JONATHAN.     Remember  that,  Asher. 

ASHER.     Remember  what? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  If  his  life  is  saved,  you  will 
be  called  upon  to  make  a  sacrifice,  to  do  your 
part. 

ASHER.     My  part? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Yes.  What  I  have  given 
him  —  the  medicine  —  is  only  half  the  battle  — 
should  it  succeed.  My  laboratory  experiments 
were  only  completed  last  night  — 

ASHER.  This  is  what  you  have  been  working 
on? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  It  happens  to  be.  But  I 
have  had  no  chance  to  test  it  —  except  on  ani 
mals.  I  meant  to  have  gone  to  a  war  hospital 
in  New  York  today.  If  it  works,  then  we  shall 


138  DR.  JONATHAN 

have  to  try  the  rest  of  the  experiment, —  your 
half  of  it. 

ASHER.     What's  that? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  You  probably  noticed  that 
George  avoided  you. 

ASHER.  It's  more  than  I  can  bear.  You  know 
what  we've  been  to  each  other.  If  he  should  die 
-  feeling  that  way  — !  — 

DR.  JONATHAN.  George  hasn't  lost  his  af 
fection  for  you;  if  it  were  so,  we  shouldn't  have 
that  symptom.  I  will  tell  you,  briefly,  my  theory 
of  the  case.  But  first  let  me  say,  in  justice  to 
Frye,  that  he  was  in  no  position  to  know  certain 
facts  that  give  the  clue  to  George's  condition  — 
the  mental  history. 

ASHER.     I   don't   understand. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  The  day  he  left  home,  for 
France,  certain  things  happened  to  him  to  arouse 
his  sympathy  with  what  we  call  working  people, 
their  lives  and  aspirations.  As  you  know, 
George  has  a  very  human  side, —  he  loves  his 
fellow  men.  He'd  never  thought  of  these  things 
before.  He  went  with  them,  naturally,  to  you, 
and  I  infer  that  you  suppressed  him! 

ASHER.  I  told  him  I  couldn't  discuss  certain 
aspects.  His  emotional  state  troubled  me, —  he 


DR.  JONATHAN  139 

was  going  away,  and  I  imagined  he  would  get 
over  it. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  He  didn't  get  over  it.  It 
was  an  emotional  crisis.  He  left  home  with  a 
conflict  in  his  mind, —  a  conflict  between  his  affec 
tion  for  you  and  that  which  he  had  suddenly 
come  to  see  was  right.  I  mean,  right  for  today, 
for  the  year  and  hour  in  which  we  are  living. 
This  question  of  the  emancipation  of  labour  be 
gan  a  hundred  years  ago,  with  the  introduction 
of  machinery  and  the  rise  of  modern  industry, 
and  in  this  war  it  has  come  to  a  head.  Well, 
as  the  time  approached  for  George  to  risk  his 
life  for  his  new  beliefs,  his  mental  conflict  deep 
ened.  He  talked  with  other  young  men  who  be 
lieved  they  were  fighting  for  the  same  cause. 
And  then  —  it  must  have  been  shortly  before  he 
was  wounded  —  he  wrote  you  that  appeal. 

ASHER.     The  letter  I  read  to  you ! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  The  fact  that  in  his  own 
home,  in  the  shops  which  bore  his  name,  no  at 
tempt  had  been  made  to  meet  the  new  issues  for 
which  he  was  going  into  battle,  weighed  upon 
him.  Then  came  the  shell  that  shattered  his 
body.  But  the  probabilities  are  that  he  was 
struck  down,  unconscious,  at  the  very  moment 


140  DR.  JONATHAN 

when  the  conflict  in  his  mind  was  most  acute. 
He  was  thinking  of  you,  of  the  difference  you 
and  he  had  had,  he  was  lonely,  he  was  afraid  — 
for  the  bravest  men  feel  fear.  To  him  the  burst 
ing  of  the  shell  was  the  bursting  of  the  con 
flict  within  him.  I  won't  go  into  the  profes 
sional  side  of  the  matter,  the  influence  of  the 
mental  state  on  the  physical  —  but  after  the 
wound  healed,  whenever  anything  occurred  to 
remind  him  of  the  conflict, —  a  letter  from  you, 
the  sight  of  the  strikers  this  afternoon  at  the 
shops,  meeting  you  once  more,  a  repetition  came 
of  what  happened  when  the  shell  struck  him. 
Certain  glands  fail  in  their  functions,  the  heart 
threatens  to  stop  and  put  an  end  to  life.  If  my 
theory  is  correct,  what  I  have  given  him  may 
tide  over  that  danger,  but  only  on  one  condition 
can  he  continue  to  live  and  become  a  useful  mem 
ber  of  society. 

ASHER.     What  condition? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  That  the  mental  conflict,  the 
real  cause  of  the  trouble,  be  resolved.  The  time 
has  come,  Asher,  when  you  must  make  your 
choice  between  your  convictions  and  your 
son. 

ASHER.     Speak  out. 


DR.  JONATHAN  141 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I  mean  that  you  must  be  pre 
pared  to  tell  George,  if  he  recovers,  that  you 
have  abandoned  your  attitude  toward  the  work 
men,  that  you  are  willing  to  recognize  their 
union,  settle  the  strike,  and  go  even  further  than 
in  their  ignorance  they  ask.  You  must  try  the 
experiment  in  the  democratization  of  industry 
on  which  George's  heart  is  set.  Otherwise  I  will 
not  answer  for  his  sanity,  I  cannot  even  give  you 
the  hope  that  he  will  live. 

ASHER.  I  never  heard  of  a  mental  conflict 
producing  such  a  state! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Remember,  you  have  said 
that  you  will  make  any  sacrifice  to  save  George's 
life. 

ASHER  (turning  on  DR.  JONATHAN).  You're 
not  trying  to  play  on  my  —  my  superstition, —  at 
a  time  like  this ! 

DR.  JONATHAN.  I'm  not  dealing  with  super 
stition,  Asher,  but  with  science.  If  George  re 
vives,  he  will  wish  to  talk  with  you. 

ASHER.     When? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Probably  this  evening  —  or 
never.  I  ask  you  the  question  —  will  you  yield 
your  convictions? 

( ASHER    bows   his   head.     DR.    JONATHAN 


142  DR.  JONATHAN 

gazes  at  him  for  a  moment,  compassion 
ately.) 

I'll  go  back  to  him  now.     I  think  he'd  better  be 

moved  to  his  room,  and  put  to  bed. 

(Exit  DR.  JONATHAN,  left.  For  a  minute 
ASHER  remains  alone,  and  then  DR.  JONA 
THAN  and  DR.  FRYE  reappear,  carrying 
GEORGE.  The  blanket  is  Hung  over  his 
knees,  and  he  seems  lifeless.  They  are  fol 
lowed  by  MINNIE,  carrying  the  phial  and 
the  glass,  and  by  AUGUSTA.  They  cross 
the  room  and  go  out,  lower  right.  ASHER 
ivalks  behind  them  as  far  as  the  door, 
hesitates,  and  then  goes  out.) 
(THE  CURTAIN  falls  and  remains  down  a 
minute  to  indicate  a  lapse  of  three  hours. 
When  it  rises  again  night  has  come,  the 
lamps  are  lighted  and  the  window  cur 
tains  drawn.  ASHER  and  AUGUSTA  are 
discovered  standing  together.  ASHER  has 
a  black,  leather  covered  book  in  his  hand, 
with  one  finger  in  the  place  where  he  has 
been  reading.  Both  shozv  the  effects  of 
a  strain.) 
AUGUSTA  (who  has  been  speaking).  And 

when  we  took  him  upstairs,  I  was  sure  he  was 


DR.  JONATHAN  143 

going  to  die  —  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  nothing 
could  save  him.  He's  been  sitting  up  and  talk 
ing  to  us  —  of  course  he's  pale  and  weak  and 
wasted,  but  in  spite  of  that,  Asher,  he  seems  to 
have  a  strength,  a  force  that  he  didn't  have  be 
fore  he  went  away.  He  isn't  a  boy  any  more. 
I  can't  describe  it,  but  I'm  almost  afraid  of 
him  —  !  — 

ASHER.     He  —  he  hasn't  mentioned  me  ? 

AUGUSTA.  No,  my  dear  —  and  since  Jonathan 
warned  me  not  to,  I've  said  nothing  about  you. 
Why  is  it? 

ASHER.     Jonathan's  the  master  now. 

AUGUSTA.  In  spite  of  what  I've  felt  about 
him,  he  has  saved  George  for  us.  It  seems  a 
miracle. 

ASHER.     A  scientific  miracle. 

AUGUSTA  (indicating  the  book  ASHER  holds). 
And  yet  you  were  reading  the  Bible ! 

ASHER.  I  just  took  it  down.  (He  lays  it  on 
the  table,  and  touches  AUGUSTA,  with  an  un 
wonted  tenderness,  on  the  shoulder).  I  think 
we  may  hope,  now,  Augusta.  But  before  we  can 
be  sure  that  he'll  get  well,  there's  something  else 
to  be  done. 

AUGUSTA  (anxiously).    What? 


144  DR.  JONATHAN 

ASHER.  Go  back  to  George, —  I'll  tell  you 
later.  It  seems  that  we  must  trust  Jonathan. 
Here  he  is  now. 

(Enter    DR.    JONATHAN,    lower    right,    as 
AUGUSTA  departs.) 

DR.  JONATHAN.  George  wants  to  get  dressed, 
and  come  down. 

ASHER.     You  think  it  wise? 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Under  the  circumstances  — 
yes.  The  heart  is  practically  normal  again,  we 
have  done  all  that  is  physically  possible.  One 
half  of  the  experiment  seems  to  have  succeeded, 
and  the  sooner  we  try  the  other  half,  the  better. 
Are  you  still  willing? 

ASHER.  I'm  prepared.  I've  carried  out  your 
—  instructions  —  sent  for  the  committee. 

DR.  JONATHAN  (looking  at  him).     Good! 

ASHER  (with  an  effort).  Jonathan,  I  —  I 
guess  I  misjudged  you  — 

DR.  JONATHAN  (smiling).  Wait  until  you  are 
sure.  Nothing  matters  if  we  can  save  that  boy. 
By  the  way,  he  asked  for  Timothy,  and  I've  sent 
for  him. 

ASHER.  He  asked  for  Timothy,  and  not  for 
me! 

DR.  JONATHAN.     It  seems  he  saw  an  officer  of 


DR.  JONATHAN  145 

Bert's  regiment,  after  the  boy  was  killed.     Here's 
the  committee,  I  think. 

( The  MAID  enters,  lower  right.  She  does  not 
speak,  but  ushers  in  HILLMAN,  RENCH 
and  FERSEN,  and  retires.) 

HILLMAN.     -  _.    ,          ~      , 

Good  evening,  Mr.  Pindar.     Good 
RENCH. 

evening,  doctor. 
FERSEN. 

ASHER.     Good  evening. 

(An  azvkward  silence.  From  habit,  ASHER 
stares  at  them  defiantly,  as  DR.  JONATHAN 
goes  out,  lower  right.) 

HILLMAN  (going  up  to  ASHER).  How's  your 
son,  Mr.  Pindar? 

RENCH.  We're  real  anxious  about  the  Cap 
tain. 

FERSEN  (nodding).  The  boys  think  a  whole 
lot  of  him,  Mr.  Pindar. 

ASHER.  He's  better,  thank  you.  The  medi 
cine  Dr.  Pindar  has  given  him  — 

RENCH.  Didn't  I  say  so?  When  I  heard 
how  he  was  when  he  got  back,  I  said  to  Fred 
Hillman  here, —  if  anybody  can  cure  him,  it's 
Dr.  Jonathan,  right  here  in  Foxon  Falls ! 

(A  pause.) 
I'm  sorry  this  here  difference  came  up  just  now, 


146  DR.  JONATHAN 

Mr.  Pindar,  when  the  Captain  come  home.  We 
was  a  little  mite  harsh  —  but  we  was  strung  up, 
I  guess,  from  the  long  shifts.  If  we'd  known 
your  son  was  comin'— 

ASHER.     You  wouldn't  have  struck? 

RENCH.  We'd  have  agreed  to  put  it  off. 
When  a  young  man  like  that  is  near  dying  for 
his  country  why  —  anything  can  wait.  But  what 
we're  asking  is  only  right. 

ASHER.  Well,  right  or  not  right,  I  sent  for 
you  to  say,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  the  strike's 
over. 

RENCH.     You'll  —  you'll  recognize  the  union? 

ASHER.  I  grant — (he  catches  himself) — I 
consent  to  your  demands. 

(After  a  moment  of  stupefaction,  their  faces 
light  up,  and  they  approach  him.) 

RENCH.  We  appreciate  it,  Mr.  Pindar. 
This'll  make  a  lot  of  families  happy  tonight. 

FERSEN.     It  will  that. 

HILLMAN.  Maybe  you  won't  believe  me,  Mr. 
Pindar,  but  it  was  hard  to  see  the  shops  closed 
down  —  as  hard  on  us  as  it  was  on  you.  We 
take  pride  in  them,  too.  I  guess  you  won't  re 
gret  it. 

ASHER  (waving  them  away).     I  hope  not.     I 


DR.  JONATHAN  14? 

ought  to  tell  you  that  you  may  thank  my  son  for 
this  —  my  son  and  Dr.  Pindar. 

RENCH.  We  appreciate  it, —  just  the  same. 
(ASHER  makes  a  gesture  as  thought  to  dis 
miss  the  subject,  as  well  as  the  committee. 
They  hesitate,  and  are  about  to  leave  when 
GEORGE,  followed  by  DR.  JONATHAN, 
comes  in,  lower  right.  His  entrance  is 
quite  dramatic.  He  walks  with  the  help 
of  a  stick,  slowly,  but  his  bearing  is  sol 
dierly,  authoritative,  impressive.  He 
halts  when  he  perceives  the  commit 
tee.) 

HILLMAN  (going  up  to  GEORGE).  How  are 
you,  Captain? 

FERSEN.  Good  to  have  you  home  once  more. 
RENCH  (going  up  to  GEORGE).  Good  to  see 
you,  Captain,  on  a  day  like  this.  As  Larz  Fersen 
said  when  we  were  going  to  strike,  "  It's  a  fine 
day  for  it."  Well,  this  is  a  better  day  —  you 
home  and  well,  and  the  strike  off. 

GEORGE  (glancing  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
then  at  ASHER).  What  do  you  mean? 

RENCH.  Why,  Mr.  Pindar  —  your  father 
here's  just  made  everybody  happy.  He's  recog 
nized  the  union,  and  we're  going  back  to  work. 


148  DR.  JONATHAN 

We'll  turn  out  machines  to  make  shrapnel  enough 
to  kill  every  Hun  in  France,— get  square  with 
'em  for  what  they  done  to  you. 

( They  all  watch  GEORGE,  absorbed  in  the  ef 
fect  this  announcement  has  on  him..     An 
expression  of  happiness  grows  in  his  eyes. 
After  a  moment  he  goes  up  to  ASIIER.) 
GEORGE.     Dad,  why  did  you  do  this? 
ASHER.     I'll    tell    you,     George.     When    you 
came  home  this  afternoon  I  realized  something 
I   hadn't   realized  before.     I   saw   that   the   tide 
was  against  me,  that  I  was  like  that  old  English 
king  who  set  his  throne  on  the  sands  and  thought 
he  could  stay  the  waters.     If —  if  anything  had 
happened  to  you,  I  couldn't  have  fought  on,  but 
now  that  you're  here  with  me  again,  now  that 
you've   risked  your   life   and   almost   lost   it   for 
this  —  this   new   order   in   which  you   believe, — 
why,  it's  enough  for  me  —  I  can  surrender  with 
honour.     I'm  tired,  I  need  a  rest.     I'd  have  gone 
down  fighting,  but  I  guess  you've  saved  me.     I've 
been  true  to  my  convictions, —  you,  who  belong 
to  the  new  generation,  must  be  true  to  yours. 
And  as  I  told  you  once,  all  I  care  about  this  busi 
ness  is  to  hand  it  over  to  you. 
GEORGE.     You'll  help  me! 


DR.  JONATHAN  149 

ASHER.  This  seems  to  be  Jonathan's  spe 
ciality, —  science.  But  I  never  give  my  word 
half  heartedly,  my  boy,  and  I'll  back  you  to  my 
last  dollar.  Be  prepared  for  disappointments, 
—  but  if  you  accomplish  something,  I'll  be  glad. 
And  if  you  fail,  George, —  any  failure  for  a 
man's  convictions  is  a  grand  failure. 

GEORGE.  Well,  it  means  life  to  me,  dad.  I 
owe  it  to  you. 

ASHER  (turning  toivard  DR.  JONATHAN). 
No,  you  owe  it  to  him, —  to  science. 

(He  puts  one  hand  on  GEORGE'S  shoulder, 
and  the  other,  with  an  abrupt  movement, 
on  DR.  JONATHAN'S.) 

And  if  science  will  do  as  much  for  democracy, 
then- 

GEORGE.  Then,  you're  from  Missouri.  Good 
old  dad ! 

ASHER  (huskily,  trying  to  carry  it  off,  and  al 
most  overcome  by  emotion  at  the  reconciliation). 
I'm  from  Missouri,  my  boy. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Then  you're  a  true  scientist, 
Asher,  for  science,  too,  waits  to  be  shown. 

(AsriER  goes  out,  lozver  right.  DR.  JONA 
THAN,  evidently  in  support  and  sympathy, 
goes  with  him.  GEORGE  and  the  commit- 


ISO  DR.  JONATHAN 

tec  look  after  them,  and  then  GEORGE  sits 
down,  and  smiles  at  the  men.) 

GEORGE.  And  we've  got  to  be  scientists,  too. 
Are  you  fellows  willing  to  take  your  share  in 
the  experiment? 

HILLMAN.     What  experiment's  that,  Captain? 

GEORGE.  Now  that  you've  got  your  union, 
what's  the  good  of  it? 

RENCH  (after  a  pause).  Why,  I  thought  we'd 
made  that  pretty  clear,  Captain.  We've  got 
something  to  fall  back  on  in  case  the  employers 
don't  live  up  to  their  agreements.  I'm  not 
speaking  of  you  — 

GEORGE.  In  other  words,  you've  got  a 
weapon. 

RENCH.     Well,  you  might  call  it  that. 

GEORGE.  But  weapons  imply  warfare, —  don't 
they? 

RENCH.     We  wouldn't  fight  with  you. 

GEORGE.  Yes,  you  would, —  if  our  interests 
conflicted.  When  I  was  in  the  trenches  I  kept 
thinking  of  the  quotation  Lincoln  used,  "  A  house 
divided  against  itself  cannot  stand."  We're  go 
ing  to  try  to  perpetuate  that  house,  just  as  he  did. 

HILLMAN.     Lincoln   had   common   sense. 

GEORGE.     Another     name      for     intelligence. 


DR.  JONATHAN  151 

And  what  we've  got  to  decide  is  whether  the  old 
house  will  do  for  democracy  —  industrial  de 
mocracy  ?  Can  we  shore  up  the  timbers  —  or 
shall  we  have  to  begin  to  build  a  new  house  ? 

RENCH  (glancing  at  HILLMAN).  The  old 
one  sure  enough  looks  rotten  to  me.  I've  said 
that  all  along. 

GEORGE.  It  seems  to  have  served  its  day. 
Has  your  union  got  the  plans  of  a  new  house 
ready  —  consulted  an  architect  ? 

RENCH.  I'm  afraid  we  don't  get  you,  Cap 
tain. 

GEORGE.  You  belong  to  the  American  Federa 
tion  of  Labour,  don't  you?  Has  it  got  a  new 
house  ready  to  move  into  ? 

RENCH.     Well,  I  haven't  seen  any  plans. 

GEORGE.  If  the  old  structure's  too  small,  one 
party  or  the  other  will  have  to  be  shoved  out. 
The  capitalist  or  the  employee.  Which  will  it 
be? 

RENCH  (laughing).     If  it  comes  to  that  — 

GEORGE  (smiling).  There's  no  question  in 
your  mind.  But  you  hadn't  thought  about  it  — 
your  Federation  hasn't  thought  about  it,  or 
doesn't  want  to  think  about  it,  and  your  em 
ployers  don't  want  to,  either, 


152  DR.  JONATHAN 

HILLMAN  (stroking  his  moustache).  That's 
so! 

GEORGE.  I'll  tell  you  who  have  thought  about 
it  — the  Bolshevists  and  the  I.  W.  W.  And  be 
cause  they  have  a  programme, —  some  pro 
gramme,  any  programme,  they're  more  intelli 
gent  than  we,  for  the  time. 
RENCH.  Those  guys? 

GEORGE.  Exactly,— those  guys.  At  least 
they  see  that  the  house  isn't  fit  to  live  in.  They 
want  to  pull  it  down,  and  go  back  to  living  in 
trees  and  caves. 

HILLMAN.  That's  about  right. 
GEORGE.  But  you're  conservatives,  you  la 
bour  union  people  — the  aristocrats  of  labour, 
which  means  that  you  don't  think.  What  you 
really  object  to,  when  you  come  down  to  it,  is 
that  men  like  my  father  and  me,  and  the  bankers, 
—  we're  all  in  the  same  boat,  most  of  us  own 
banks,  too,— control  the  conditions  of  life  for 
you  and  men  like  you. 

RENCH.  I  never  heard  it  put  in  those  words, 
but  by  gum,  it's  so. 

GEORGE.  And  your  Confederation,  your 
unions  are  for  the  skilled  workers,  whose  con 
ditions  aren't  so  bad,—  and  they're  getting  better 


DR.  JONATHAN  153 

every  time  you  jack  up  the  wages.  You  com 
plain  that  we  employers  aren't  thinking  of  you, 
but  are  you  thinking  of  the  millions  of  the  un 
skilled  who  live  from  hand  to  mouth?  The  old 
structure's  good  enough  for  you,  too.  But  what 
will  the  miserable  men,  who  don't  sit  in,  be  do 
ing  while  we're  squabbling  to  see  who'll  have 
the  best  rooms? 

RENCH.     Blow  the  house  up,  I  guess. 

GEORGE.  If  they're  rough  with  it,  it'll  tumble 
down  like  a  pack  of  cards  —  simply  because  we're 
asses.  Can't  we  build  a  house  big  enough  for 
all  —  for  a  hundred  million  people  and  their 
descendants?  A  house  in  which,  after  a  while, 
there  will  be  no  capitalists  and  no  exploiters  and 
no  wreckers,  only  workers  —  each  man  and  wo 
man  on  the  job  they  were  fitted  for?  It's  a 
man-sized  job,  but  isn't  it  worth  tackling? 

RENCH  (enthused).  It's  sure  worth  tackling, 
Captain. 

GEORGE.  And  can't  we  begin  it,  in  a  modest 
way,  by  making  a  little  model  of  the  big  house 
right  here  in  Foxon  Falls?  Dr.  Jonathan  will 
help  us. 

RENCH.  Go  to  it,  Captain.  We'll  trust  him 
and  you. 


154  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE.  Trust  is  all  right,  but  you've  got  to 
go  to  it,  too,  and  use  your  headpieces.  We've 
got  to  sit  down  together  and  educate  ourselves, 
who  are  now  employers  and  employees,  get  hold 
of  all  the  facts,  the  statistics, —  and  all  the  ele 
ments,  the  human  nature  side  of  it,  from  the 
theorists,  the  students,  whom  we've  despised. 

RENCH.  Well,  it's  a  fact,  I  hadn't  thought 
much  of  them  intellectuals. 

GEORGE.  They're  part  of  the  game  —  their 
theories  are  the  basis  for  an  intelligent  practice. 
And  what  should  we  be  able  to  do  without  their 
figures?  Look  at  what  we've  worked  out  in 
large  scale  production  and  distribution  in  this 
war!  That's  a  new  world  problem.  Shall  we 
be  pioneers  here  in  Foxon  Falls  in  the  new  ex 
periment. 

RENCH.  An  experiment  in  human  chemicals, 
as  the  doctor  would  say.  Pioneers!  I  kind  of 
like  that  word.  You  can  put  me  in  the  wagon, 
Captain. 

GEORGE.  It  will  be  a  Conestoga  with  the  cur 
tains  rolled  up,  so  that  everybody  can  see  in. 
No  secrets.  And  it  will  be  a  wagon  with  an  in 
dustrial  constitution, 


DR.  JONATHAN  155 

FERSEN.     Excuse    me,    Captain, —  but    what's 
that? 

(RENCH  laughs.) 

GEORGE  (smiling).  Hasn't  it  struck  you,  Fer- 
sen,  that  unless  a  man  has  a  voice  and  an  inter 
est  in  the  industry  in  which  he  works  his  voice 
and  interest  in  the  government  for  which  he 
votes  is  a  mockery? 
(FERSEN  nods.) 

RENCH.  We'll  have  to  give  Larz  a  little  edu 
cation. 

GEORGE.  Oh,  I  guess  he'll  make  a  good  in 
dustrial  citizen.  But  that's  part  of  the  bargain. 

RENCH.  That's  fair.  Human  nature  ain't  so 
rotten,  when  you  give  it  a  chance. 

GEORGE.  Well,  then,  are  you  willing  to  try  it 
out,  on  the  level? 

RENCH.     I  cal'late  we'll  stick,  Captain. 

HILLMAN.     We  sure  will. 

FERSEN.     We'll  be  pioneers! 

GEORGE.  That's  good  American,  Fersen,  not 
to  be  afraid  of  an  ideal.  Shake !  We'll  sit  down 
with  it  in  a  day  or  two. 

(They  all  shake.     The  members  of  the  com 
mittee  Hie  out  of  the  room,  lower  right. 


156  DR.  JONATHAN 

GEORGE  is  left  alone  for  a  brief  interval, 
when  MINNIE,  in  the  white  costume  of  a 
nurse,  enters,  lower  right,  with  a  glass  of 
medicine  in  her  hand.) 

MINNIE        (halting).     You're       all       alone? 
Where's  Dr.  Jonathan? 

GEORGE.     He's  gone  off  with  dad. 
MINNIE.     It's  nine  o'clock. 

(She  hands  him  the  glass,  he  drinks  the  con 
tents  and  sets  the  glass  on  the  table. 
Then  he  takes  her  hands  and  draivs  her  to 
him  and  kisses  her.  She  submits  almost 
passively. ) 
Why  are  you  doing  this,  George? 

GEORGE.     Because  I  love  you,  because  I  need 
you,  because  I'm  going  to  marry  you. 

MINNIE    (shaking    her    head:    slowly).     No 
you're  not. 

GEORGE.     Why  not? 

MINNIE.  You  know  why  not,  as  well  as  I  do. 
(She  gazes  up  at  him.  He  is  still  holding  her 
in  his  arms.  Suddenly  she  kisses  him 
passionately,  breaks  away  from  him  and 
starts  to  fly  from  the  room,  when  she  runs 
into  DR.  JONATHAN,  who  is  entering, 
loiver  right.) 


DR.  JONATHAN  157 

DR.  JONATHAN.  Where  are  you  going,  Min 
nie? 

(MINNIE  halts,  and  is  silent.  DR.  JONA 
THAN  lays  a  detaining  hand  on  her  arm, 
and  looks  from  one  to  the  other,  compre- 
hendingly. ) 

GEORGE.  I've  asked  her  to  marry  me,  Dr. 
Jonathan. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  what  are  your  objec 
tions,  Minnie? 

MINNIE.  You  know  why  I  can't,  Dr.  Jona 
than.  What  kind  of  a  wife  would  I  make  for 
him,  with  his  family  and  friends.  I'd  do  any 
thing  for  him  but  that !  He  wouldn't  be  happy. 

DR.  JONATHAN.  And  what's  your  answer, 
George  ? 

GEORGE.  I  don't  want  her  for  my  family  and 
friends, —  I  want  her  for  myself.  This  isn't  a 
snap  judgment  —  I've  had  time  to  think  it  over. 

MINNIE.     I  didn't  mean  to  be  here  when  you 
got  home.     I  know  I'm  not  fit  to  be  your  wife  — 
I  haven't  had  any  education. 

GEORGE.  Neither  have  I.  We  start  level 
there.  I've  lived  among  people  of  culture,  and 
I've  found  out  that  culture  chiefly  consists  of 
fixed  ideas,  and  obstruction  to  progress,  of  hat- 


158  DR.  JONATHAN 

ing  the  President, —  of  knowing  the  right  peo 
ple  and  eating  fish  with  a  fork. 

MINNIE  (smiling,  though  in  tears).  Well,  I 
never  ate  fish  with  a  knife,  anyway. 

GEORGE.  I  spent  my  valuable  youth  learning 
Greek  and  Latin,  and  I  can't  speak  or  read  either 
of  them.  I  know  that  Horace  wrote  odes,  and 
Cicero  made  orations,  but  I  can't  quote  them. 
All  I  remember  about  biology  is  that  the  fittest 
are  supposed  to  survive,  and  in  this  war  I've  seen 
the  fittest  killed  off  like  flies.  You've  had  sev 
eral  years  of  useful  work  in  the  Pindar  Shops 
and  the  Wire  Works,  to  say  nothing  of  a  course 
in  biological  chemistry,  psychology  and  sociology 
under  Dr.  Jonathan.  I'll  leave  it  to  him  whether 
you  don't  know  more  about  life  than  I  do  — 
about  the  life  and  problems  of  the  great  mass  of 
people  in  this  country.  And  now  that  the  strike's 
over  — 

MINNIE.     The  strike's  over! 

GEORGE.  Yes.  I've  chosen  my  life.  It  isn't 
going  to  be  divided  between  a  Wall  Street  office 
and  Newport  and  Palm  Beach.  A  girl  out  of 
a  finishing  school  wouldn't  be  of  any  use  to  me. 
I'm  going  to  stay  right  here  in  Foxon  Falls,  Min 
nie,  I've  got  a  real  job  on  my  hands,  and  I  need 


DR.  JONATHAN  159 

a  real  woman  with  special  knowledge  to  help  me. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  we  won't  have  vacations, — 
and  we'll  sit  down  and  get  our  education  to 
gether.  Dr.  Jonathan  will  be  the  schoolmaster. 

MINNIE.     It's  a  dream,  George. 

GEORGE.  Well,  Minnie,  if  it's  a  dream  worth 
dying  for  it's  a  dream  worth  living  for.  Your 
brother  Bert  died  for  it. 


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